The Art of Potions
by True Blue Fool
Summary: When an artist from Snape's past returns, he starts to see a lot of things in a different light. Including one Harry Potter. Snarry.
1. Chapter 1

So this is my first fic. Yay! I was bored and since I love reading fanfiction, I thought I'd write one. Reviews are appreciated, but please be gentle. Set in sixth year. Canon up until OotP, but disregards HBP and DH.

**Rating:** T (for now; may become M in later chapters)

**Pairings: **Snape/OC (past), eventual Snape/Harry

**Warnings:** Eventual slash, OOCness. Don't like, don't read.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or make money from the writing of this fiction.

* * *

"Severus, you have a visitor," Dumbledore told him.

Severus Snape looked at him in disbelief. A visitor? That was impossible. He had no family to speak of- none, at least, that would bother taking the trouble visiting him at Hogwarts. The same could be said of his friends. "She's anxious to see you again."

She? Severus quirked an eyebrow. There was only one she still living that would bother coming to see him. And Severus wasn't quite sure he wanted to see her. "I have a detention to oversee tonight, Albus. I can't-"

The old man's eyes were understanding. "If you don't wish to see her, Severus, I'll ask her to leave. But I think you owe her at least to tell her that yourself."

"_Owe _her-!" But he was interrupted by a knock at his office door.

"Your detention, I presume?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling. "Well, we shouldn't keep Harry from his well-deserved punishment, I think. Anastasia will be staying in Hogsmeade for the next few days, in case you change your mind." He opened the door to find Harry Potter standing there, fist raised to knock again.

"Professor Dumbledore-"

"Hello, Harry. Professor Snape is waiting for you." The old wizard rested a hand briefly on the boy's shoulder before exiting.

Harry stepped up to the Potions Master's desk, looking rather like someone walking to their own execution. Snape had a contemplative look on his face, and Harry wondered nervously if Snape was thinking up new and nasty ways of tormenting him. A few seconds passed with nothing happening, so Harry attempted a tentative, "Sir?"

Severus blinked as if just realizing that Harry was standing in front of him Then, unexpectedly, he sighed. "I want you to redo that fiasco from this afternoon, Potter. As many times as it takes you to get it right."

Harry blinked right back at him. "That's it?" he blurted. That was unexpectedly lenient.

"Minerva McGonagall cashed in a hefty favor getting you into my NEWT-level Potions class, Potter. If you can't brew this one potion, I'll have to kick you out of my class and then I shall still owe her." Severus sneered at him. "Of course, if you'd rather a harsher punishment…"

"Err, no sir. I'll just get started then, shall I?"

Severus allowed himself a smirk as Harry nearly sprinted into the adjoining classroom. Of course, his amusement was short-lived as his thoughts drifted back to the visitor Dumbledore had come to see him about. Anastasia was a woman he hadn't seen in years and actively tried not to think about in just as many. She had wronged him so completely that he still burned with embarrassment and anger when he thought of it, but he might have forgiven her, all those years ago, if she had just apologized. Instead, she stated over and over again that he had been overreacting and that she had done nothing wrong.

Severus sighed and tilted his head forward, letting his long hair curtain his face. Dumbledore was right, though. Severus owed Anastasia for a lot, and if she had come all this way just to talk to him face-to-face… she could have just sent an _owl_, for heaven's sake, she didn't have to go through all this trouble. Severus wasn't normally one to let bygones be bygones and all that other sentimental crap, but if Anastasia had just come to admit the truth, well, she had always been the exception.

Resolved, then, to go and see her the following day, Severus entered the classroom to see just how badly Potter was messing up _this_ time

* * *

There was something different about Snape tonight, Harry thought contemplatively as he prepared the ingredients for his potion. It wasn't just the rather lenient detention- although that had been completely unexpected; Harry's potion from class that afternoon had been potentially dangerous, and Harry himself almost thought he deserved punishment- but there was something off about the Potions Master tonight. He hadn't been all that nasty, and Harry hadn't been subjected to the shouting match he'd expected.

_Must have something to do with why Dumbledore was here_, Harry decided, taking out the mint to chop. If that was the case, then Harry was likely never to know the cause of Snape's odd behavior. It wasn't that Harry cared all that much, but after everything that had happened, Harry craved familiarity. There was nothing more familiar than Snape hating him.

There was a while that Harry hated Snape with such a passion that just the thought of the man made him see red. After all if Snape hadn't goaded Sirius-

_Don't think about that!_ he thought suddenly, turning his thoughts violently away from his godfather.

-but as the summer passed, Harry quickly lost the strength to sustain that anger. Snape had just been the closest target for that anger, but he didn't deserve it. There were two people to be held responsible- Voldemort and Harry himself. Snape had simply done his best to help them without blowing his cover. Harry couldn't bring himself to hate the man anymore, and that was a disconcerting, alien feeling. He wanted everything to be as it was, and while he knew that wasn't possible, he should at _least_ be able to hate Snape once again as soon as the man made some comment about his swollen ego or lack of intelligence.

But that was _another_ thing. Snape had begun saving his insults for Harry's potions _alone_ (although he might intimate at a Gryffindor lack of intelligence, he never insulted Harry personally), and couched inside the insults was exactly what Harry could do to improve his potion.

_It's not fair!_ Harry thought, furiously chopping the mint leaves. If he had to pick out the one thing he could count on in his life, it was his and Snape's mutual hatred for each other. And yet- and yet!- their mutual hatred had somehow changed into a vague dislike, which made Harry furious.

Part of Harry knew that this was entirely illogical, that Snape not hating him was a _good_ thing. But he couldn't help it; he was desperate for everything to go back to the way it was _before_. Snape's hatred of him was an essential part of that time, and that too seemed to have gone away, just like-

_Don't!_

"I realize that the recipe calls for finely chopped mint leaves, Potter," a familiar cold drawl said from the door, "but they should still be visible to the naked eye."

Harry looked down at his chopping board, and realized that he could have stopped chopping a while ago. "I wasn't paying attention," Harry mumbled, keeping his eyes on the leaves. He didn't want to look the Potions Master in the eye, otherwise Snape might realize that Harry had intentionally left him an opening.

One long-fingered hand entered into Harry's field, as Snape sifted the chopped leaves through his fingers. "A common occurrence, I'm sure," Snape replied, though without the malice Harry would have expected. The fingers moved, spider-like, through the pile of leaves. "These are passable, Potter, but be sure to pay more attention to the rest of the potion. It can be extremely volatile when not prepared properly, as you learned this afternoon."

Harry flushed with embarrassment at the reminder. If Snape hadn't caught his mistake in time, he could have seriously injured a lot of people. He waited for the reprimand, the yelling, and the insults that he knew he deserved.

But they never came. "Are you waiting for an engraved invitation Potter? Or do you just enjoy my company so much that you wish to prolong your detention? Because, I can assure you, the feeling is not mutual, and I'd like this finished as soon as possible." When Harry looked up at him in surprise, Snape sneered. "The _potion_, Potter."

Harry looked down at the potions ingredients lined out in front of him, then back up at the professor. "Why don't you _hate_ me any more?" he blurted out suddenly.

Snape gaped at him, and Harry clapped his hand over his mouth in mortification. He hadn't meant to say that- it had just slipped out-

"Potter-" Snape finally managed, but Harry turned away and busied himself with preparing the rest of his ingredients.

"I-I'll just get finished with this potion then, shall I?"

"Potter-"

"Sorry for dawdling, professor, won't happen again-"

"Potter!" This time Snape grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to stop. "You're mangling that shrivelfig. Which, by the way, doesn't even belong in that potion."

There was a long moment of silence as Harry looked at the shrivelfig in his hands. (And truly, mangled was the best description for it) Snape's hands stayed on his shoulders. "It was never you that I hated." Snape's voice was so quiet Harry had to strain to hear it.

"You hated my dad. I _know_." Harry resisted the urge to stamp his foot impatiently.

"Molly accused Black," Harry winced, "of confusing you with James, but I was guilty of the same thing. Don't get me wrong, Potter, I still don't particularly like you, but I was- oh what do those Muggle quacks say- transferring my unresolved anger towards your father onto you."

"So?" Harry risked looking up into Snape's face. "It's been that way for five years. What changed?"

Snape looked surprised at the question. "I suppose I did." He let go of Harry's shoulders and headed back towards his office. Harry assumed the strange and uncomfortable conversation was over and turned his attention back to his potion ingredients. He almost missed what Snape said next. "I went to an art gallery."

Harry looked up at Snape, but the man was already gone. _An art gallery?_ Harry thought incredulously. He couldn't have heard that right. Convinced that he had just imagined it, Harry turned back to his potion, this time giving it his _full_ attention.

* * *

The night passed without any further awkward conversations, for which Severus was extremely grateful. Potter actually managed to do a halfway decent job with the potion, and so his detention ended quickly. Severus gave the boy back half-credit from that day's class, and he turned to grading papers from his second year classes. But, as per usual, the papers were unimaginative, uninsightful, done with just enough effort to get them a passing grade. They were hardly enough to keep Severus' attention, and he thought back to what he had told Potter.

_I went to an art gallery._

He should have known something would change when he visited that art gallery. All the major decisions and changes in Severus' life could be attributed to art in some way. And that was all because of _her_. Anastasia.

He hadn't planned to visit that art gallery, but Severus couldn't really fool himself. He'd seen the advertisement for her exhibit in the Daily Prophet, and the fact that he'd just _happened_ to be walking down the street where the only wizarding gallery in London was located, a street he rarely- if ever- walked, well, obviously his subconscious had decided he should make the trip.

He didn't know if he'd been hoping to see her there, but of course he hadn't. If he closed his eyes, he could still see her little biography plaque, complete with a picture.

_Anastasia King. Best known for her piece, _The Art of Potions._ The artist focuses mostly on portraiture, using a combination of Muggle painting techniques and spellcraft. Critics applaud King for her innovation and for allowing the viewer to see 'the truest portrait of the soul.'_

The bio picture had smiled up at him with that mysterious smile he knew so well. Anastasia's smile always seemed to be full of secrets.

Severus had spent the rest of the day wandering her exhibit. Anastasia didn't bother with realism; she never had. Severus could guess that most of her subjects barely shared a passing resemblance to their portrait. But that wasn't what made Anastasia the artist she was. She painted the flaws. Every flaw. From the smallest birthmark to the deepest, darkest secret of their soul. Severus had always thought that that was the reason why none of the portraits looked like their subjects. You never got the full picture of someone if you only saw their bad qualities, no matter what the critics said. Anastasia knew that, but as she had said, she painted 'the side people always look for first.' And the worse someone was, the fewer redeeming qualities they had, the more they had looked like their portraits.

Severus paused at one of the portraits, a smaller one. Most of the room had ignored it. The full-sized painting, _Ministerial Fool_, had captured their attention, bowler hat in hand and exuding terrible insecurity. But there was something about this smaller one that had caught his eye, a familiarity. Maybe it was the portrait of someone he knew.

Anastasia's portraits couldn't talk like the conventional wizarding portraits, and they could move but little. But this one seemed to desperately want to move out of his sight.

As Severus studied it, he could see the intentional cruelty of this man, the arrogance of him, and the fierce loyalty unto the point of stupidity. Severus blinked. The Anastasia he'd once known would have admired that trait, not painted it as a flaw. She must have known this man personally. Severus looked at the title of the painting- she wouldn't have named him, of course, but the title might give him some clue.

_The Prisoner of Azkaban_

Severus looked back at the figure. Lank hair. Hints of insanity and desperation. Thoughts of revenge. It was Black.

Severus backed away from the portrait even as the mangled form of Black stared back at him with hatred.

Part of Severus thought he should be rejoicing. Here, here was proof that Black had always been what Severus had said. Here, for the entire wizarding world to see. But…

_It didn't look like Black_.

Even the _Ministerial Fool_ painting had looked more like Fudge than this looked like Black. If he had been right about Anastasia's paintings-

This painting showed nothing more than what Severus had always seen in Black. But that meant there was _more_. There was more to Black than Severus had always seen.

Black had been a better person than Severus had always assumed.

He'd left the gallery feeling a bit sick. It was after that Severus had decided to no longer waste his energy on childhood prejudices. Black and James Potter, his two main tormentors, were both dead. Lupin had never participated and had always managed to be civil. As for _Harry_ Potter, well, he'd done the exact opposite of what his father would have done. If James Potter had been in his son's position, and had seen that memory in the pensieve, he wouldn't have wasted any time in spreading it around school. If Harry had been as much like James as Severus had always thought, his students would have been calling him 'Snivellus' the very next day.

That was the reason why he no longer hated Harry. He realized that Harry was _not_ James and was probably less like James than even Black had thought.

Now, in his office, and brooding about that day, Severus figured he'd been doing a pretty good job at shelving his prejudice towards Potter since the boy had been prompted to ask, _why don't you hate me?_ But…

Severus tapped a finger against his desk. Had it just been his imagination, or had there been a note of desperation in Potter's voice when he'd asked that?

Severus shook his head. Why would that be so? Why would Potter _want_ Severus to hate him?

_Because it's familiar_. Potter _had_ just lost the closest thing he'd ever known to a father. He probably didn't want any other aspect of his life to change, and that was impossible with the Dark Lord at large. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd been _trying_ to do right by Potter- and it had been nothing close to easy- but had he just made it harder for the boy?

Severus leaned back with a sigh. Potter would just have to deal with it, dammit. With some reluctance, he turned back to the pile of papers. Anastasia always managed to twist him into knots. He wanted to get these out of the way because he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to do anything else tomorrow.

* * *

"Sev!"

She had barely changed, Severus thought when the door opened to his knock. "Ms. King," he greeted her stiffly. Anastasia would never be considered a great beauty- her features bordered on the plain- but she had a vibrancy and a mystery about her that was no less alluring.

"Don't be like that, Sev," Anastasia said, with a bit of a pout. "I know we ended on bad terms, but we were friends once. Please, come in. I have something for you."

Severus followed her in to the small sitting area of her inn room. The place was nice, but not nearly the nicest she could afford. She never did like anything too flashy.

Severus sat when she gestured him to, back stiff. She seemed completely at ease, but he felt decidedly uncomfortable. "Wait here, I'll go get it."

She stepped just inside the bedroom, leaving the door open. Severus watched her. Her clothes were so familiar- that odd mix of Muggle and witch, much like her paintings, that was so much her. A dark blue corset, black wide sleeved blouse, denim pants and tall, heeled boots, her cloak hanging on the coat rack.

"Here," she held out a thin, rectangular package. "This has always belonged to you."

The breath stuck in his throat. "Is this-?"

"The reason you stopped talking to me?" Anastasia finished with a half smile. "Yeah, it is. I still stand by my work, Sev, but I should have asked you first, and I'm sorry."

Severus clutched the package hard, and he could feel the detail of the frame through the brown paper. "Anastasia… this is… it's worth…" he felt like he was floundering. The apology he'd been waiting for all these years, and now this. The painting he held in his hands was worth more than all of the potions ingredients in his stores put together. And he had some very rare ingredients.

"Sev, it's your's." She crouched down so she looked him straight in the eyes. "You can keep it, sell it, burn it, whatever." She straightened up and conjured a pot of tea, pouring them both cups. "I was wrong and you were right."

"When-?"

"A few years ago. But I didn't think you'd see me. I wasn't sure you'd see me now."

He took the teacup. No milk and just a bit of sugar. Just as he'd always taken it. He couldn't believe she remembered. "But why now?"

"I saw your name in my guest book." At his confused look, she added, "From the exhibit. I figured you couldn't hate me too much if you went."

"Anastasia…" he started, but the words died on his tongue.

"I know, Sev," she said quietly, smiling her mysterious smile. "I missed you, too."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: To my two reviewers, Elfwyn and Alika Jones, thanks so much! I also just want to say in advance that I'm totally making up all the potions-brewing stuff. I hope it sounds logical.

Random thought: Bad Romance by Lady Gaga should totally be the Snarry theme song. Look at the lyrics and tell me you don't think so.

* * *

Harry had earned himself another detention in Potions. He wasn't sure how it had happened. He thought he'd been doing rather well, but then the Slytherins had started snickering to each other, Harry had turned to look, and while he was distracted, the potion had started spitting and sparking.

"Well, Potter, at least this time you aren't trying to blow us up," Snape had said coolly, throwing a neutralizing potion into the cauldron. "It's an improvement." Harry flushed and muttered some sort of apology. "Looks like another zero for the day and another detention tonight. Oh, and twenty points from Gryffindor for being completely unable to follow directions." Snape's eyes were hard as he looked at Harry. "I expect better than gross incompetence from my NEWTs students, Potter."

Harry felt his flush deepen as he heard the reprove in Snape's voice. Malfoy chuckled darkly on the other side of the room. Hermione patted his shoulder consolingly.

But Snape was _right_. That was what really made him flush. Harry was sixteen years old; he should know better than to allow himself to be distracted by the Slytherins. He hadn't even known what they had been snickering about, but, like a child, he'd had to turn to see what they were doing.

He just wasn't meant for potions. Maybe he'd drop the class and ask McGonagall to get him into the NEWTs Care of Magical Creatures class. At least there he'd never be accused of 'gross incompetence.'

But that would mean he could never become an Auror.

He presented himself promptly for his detention. "Come," Snape called when he knocked on the door to the Potions Master's office. "Tell me, Potter, what _exactly_ you did wrong today," Snape ordered without looking up from the stack of papers he was grading.

"I wasn't paying attention-"

"Yet again," Snape drawled, still not looking up from his desk. "And why did that ruin your potion this time?"

Harry wracked his brain for the passage he'd read about this particular potion. "Err, because I needed to, err… add the mandrake root as soon as the potion turned blue."

This time Snape looked up from the papers. "Precisely, Potter. And what happens when you _don't _add the mandrake root at the right moment?" His eyes glittered like black beetles.

"Err, the other ingredients combine too quickly, and adding the mandrake root can be…" Harry closed his eyes, "potentially volatile. The sparking and spitting happens when it's too late to add the mandrake root."

There was a long moment of silence where Harry refused to open his eyes. Finally, Snape spoke up. "It occurs to me, Potter," Snape tapped a finger against his desk, "that you might _actually _benefit from Remedial Potions." Harry's eyes snapped open and he looked at Snape in shock. _Extra _lessons? Was Snape really offering to give him _extra_ lessons? Especially after the fiasco of the Occlumency lessons last year?

"Your other professors keep trying to convince me that you aren't hopeless, Potter. And your OWLs would suggest that they're right. You're main problem is that you are too easily distracted. Perhaps some extra lab time would benefit you."

Harry stared openly at his professor. "But sir-"

Snape's mouth curled into a half-smile. "Yes, Potter, we don't have a great history of private lessons together. You can appreciate the sacrifice I'm making, so understand this: if you aren't at least doing consistent E work by the winter holidays, you're out of my class."

Harry nodded, feeling inexplicably relieved. Snape was only being nice up to a certain point. "Err, just one question professor-"

Snape sighed and passed a hand over his eyes. "No, Potter, we don't have to call it Remedial Potions if your delicate ego can't take it. We'll call it a lab period. But as such, Potter, I'll expect lab reports."

Harry grinned and Snape gave him a look that was half disgusted. "Your pride will be the death of you, Potter. Go finish this afternoon's potion before I change my mind."

* * *

Severus drummed his fingers against his desk, a nervous habit. Extra lessons with Potter. Had he _really_ just volunteered to do extra lessons with Potter? Had he completely and totally lost his mind?

It was Anastasia's fault, he thought irrationally. Things always changed whenever she showed up. _He _always changed when she showed up. She'd always had a habit of making his life go topsy-turvy. And this reconciliation visit of hers was no different.

Severus thought back to the brown-paper package that sat, unopened, in his quarters. It was a surprising gift, and a very, very generous gift, but he hadn't had the courage to open it. He thought he remembered the painting, thought he knew every inch of it, but he was afraid that if he opened it, it would be worse than he'd remembered.

_This has always belonged to you_, she'd said, as though she'd painted it for him, all those years ago. But she hadn't. She'd painted it for herself. All her paintings she painted for herself. Art was a very selfish occupation. At least, it was in Anastasia's hands.

Severus sighed and paused to listen to the activity in the classroom. There was nothing out of the ordinary. He heard the distant thud of Potter chopping, the slosh of the potion and the crackling of the fire. No explosions. That was something, at least. Maybe Potter was actually improving.

Another knock sounded at his office door, and Severus looked up in surprise. It was rather late for a student to be coming to him, and, with the exception of Albus, none of the other professors made a habit of visiting him. Severus frowned. He hoped it wasn't Albus; he didn't particularly want to deal with the man's cryptic hints and magnanimous smiles tonight.

Severus rose from his desk and crossed to open the door. At least this way he could stop any undesirables from entering and shut them out. But when he opened the door, he was very surprised to see Anastasia.

She brandished a couple tickets at him. "I got these really good seats," she said without preamble, "to see that new group, the FireDrakes. I thought I'd see if you were free to come. I hear they do some really great illusions during the show."

Severus frowned at her. "You know I always hated concerts. Besides, I can't just leave with no warning. I'm the Head of Slytherin House."

"Reeeeaaaaallllllly," Anastasia said interestedly, drawing out the word. "That's so awesome, Sev. I didn't know that." She offered him a half-smile. "I mean, it has been nearly 20 years. You'll forgive me if I'm a little behind the times."

"Of course." There was an awkward silence. Severus stepped to the side. "Will you come in?"

She smiled again, a full smile this time, and stepped past him inside. There was a low hiss from inside the classroom. _That_ was the sound the potion was supposed to be making. Potter didn't do half bad when he wasn't distracted. Severus blinked. Did he _actually_ just think that?

Anastasia peered at the classroom door interestedly. "You got something brewing in there, Sev?"

"I'm overseeing a detention."

"What'd they do?"

Severus sighed. "Anastasia, you know I can't tell you that."

"You're too boring, Sev." She gave one last look at the classroom door before sitting in the chair placed in front of his desk. "You got plans for the weekend?"

"I-"

"And don't say you can't leave, because you can so long as you give notice, right?"

"Anastasia, I appreciate everything you've done," he said slowly, the words coming with difficulty. "But I think I need some time to… adjust. I can't just go back to the way things were. Not yet, at any rate."

Anastasia's smile faltered slightly. "That's understandable, of course. Sorry for being so pushy, Sev. I guess I just wanted to forget that you've spent the last 20 years hating me." She shrugged and put her hand on his. "We had a good thing, back then. I was in a bit of a rush to get it back."

_Pull your hand away,_ Severus thought to himself. That was how this all started, all those years ago: just the touch of a hand. But he wasn't ready to start it again, not yet. _Just pull your hand away!_ But he didn't move.

But luckily- or unluckily, depending on how one viewed the situation- Potter chose that moment to enter the room. "Professor, err…" the boy trailed off, looking between Severus and Anastasia. Severus noticed that Potter also flattened his fringe to cover his scar in an almost unconscious manner. Not quite the attention seeker Severus had always made him out to be, it seemed.

Severus slipped his hand from Anastasia's. "Is there a problem?"

Potter gave one last nervous tug of his hair before turning to Severus. "I'm not really sure…"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You aren't sure if there's a problem, Potter?" Anastasia gave a startled little twitch beside him and peered more closely at the boy.

"Well, err…" Potter rubbed the back of his head, looking extremely uncomfortable under Anastasia's scrutiny. "It's not quite the right color."

"Go bottle a flask and bring it to me." Potter looked relieved to be able to leave the room. No, not an attention seeker in the least.

"You had _Harry Potter_ here for a detention, Sev?" Anastasia asked incredulously.

"He breaks the rules just like any other student." Severus collected some papers off of his desk to make room for his examination of Potter's potion.

Anastasia looked expectantly at the classroom door. "D'you think he'll let me paint him?"

Severus placed the papers carefully back on his desk and turned slowly towards Anastasia. "Not," he said softly, "while I am his professor."

Anastasia blinked at him. "But Sev-"

"Potter is extremely trusting, Anastasia, often to the point of stupidity. Should you offer to paint him, he'll agree without precisely knowing what it is you paint." Severus stared straight into her eyes. "As his professor, it is my job to protect him from such mistakes, and such people who would take advantage of him."

Anastasia gaped at him. "I'm not trying to take _advantage_ of him, Sev-"

"No, you just want to use his name to further your career." Severus' upper lip curled into a sneer. "I do believe you had somewhere to be tonight. I suggest you leave now."

Anastasia's face darkened. "It's James Potter's son, Sev, I thought you'd be glad to let me paint him."

"Potter has enough trouble concentrating without having his every flaw on display for the world to see. I don't need him blowing up my classroom, thank you. Good night, Ms. King."

Anastasia opened her mouth as if to say something else, but she closed it, shaking her head. "Hope to see you around, Sev," she said softly. Severus closed his eyes as she left, breathing hard through his nose as though he'd just run a race.

"Err, professor…"

Severus opened his eyes to see Potter standing in the classroom doorway. Who knew how long the boy had been standing there, how much he had seen. From the nervous way he was pulling on his fringe, it had been plenty.

Severus held out his hand. "The potion, Potter?"

Wordlessly, Potter handed to him. Severus sat at desk to examine it. Potter didn't move. "Sit down, Potter," Severus said impatiently, gesturing to the seat Anastasia had vacated.

Potter slid bonelessly into the seat, and Severus examined the potion. Potter had been right, it wasn't the exact shade of violet that the potion should be, more of a blue-violet. "This color occurs when there isn't enough sodium in the solution," Severus explained, examining the bottle closely.

Potter frowned. "The book didn't say anything about adding salt."

"No. The sodium in the potion comes mainly from what naturally occurs in the ingredients. That can be a varying level, depending on soil quality and the like." Severus turned the flask over in his hand. "A Potions Master learns to compensate for the changes in those levels, but for a student at your level, this is acceptable." Severus set the flask aside and reached for his grade book. "You may leave now, Potter."

But Potter didn't stand up. "I… thank you, professor."

"Don't thank me Potter," Severus replied, marking Potter's half-credit in his book. "It is still quite _un_acceptable that you can't get these potions right on the first try."

"I didn't mean for that."

Severus looked up to see that Potter was once more tugging nervously on his fringe. Oh, so he had heard plenty. "As I told Ms. King, I was doing my job as your professor. Plus, if your head swells any more, I don't think we'll be able to fit it in the castle," he added dryly. It was the kind of comment that Severus had _tried_ to stop using, but he found himself uncomfortable with Potter's gratitude.

But Potter didn't get angry. He just sat there, tugging at his fringe. "It… I ruined something, didn't I? I'm sorry."

"What you saw, Potter, was something that ended a very long time ago. It's high time that we accepted that and moved on. I'm sorry to say that you can't claim any responsibility for it."

And Potter kept tugging on his damn fringe. "What did you mean when you said my every flaw would be on display?"

"Not even going to pretend you didn't listen, are you?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow and Potter flushed. "Anastasia King is one of the most famous artists of all time in our world, Potter. If you're so interested, look it up. Now if you don't mind, I _do_ have other things to do." Severus looked pointedly at the door. Potter took the hint this time and stood to leave. "Oh and I'll see you here Monday at 5 o'clock sharp."

"But- I didn't- I mean-" the boy spluttered, obviously thinking Severus had given him another detention.

Severus let it go on for a moment before interrupting him. "For your lab period, Potter."

The boy flushed again. "Oh. I forgot," he admitted.

"Indeed. See that you don't forget again. If you're late, I will not be in a forgiving mood."

Potter offered a grin that seemed… almost shy. "Of course, professor. And thanks again. For everything."

* * *

"Extra lessons with Snape?" Ron asked incredulously. "And you _agreed_? Are you out of your mind, mate?"

Harry shrugged, picking at his breakfast. "He offered. He's not being forced to, not like last year. And I need Potions to become an Auror."

Hermione frowned with concern. "Still, after last year-"

"That was my fault. Not Snape's. Besides, haven't you noticed? He's…better."

Both of his friends stared at Harry in disbelief. He sighed. "I'll take that as a no, then." He took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "He doesn't hate me any more."

"You're mental, Harry," Ron said, shaking his head. "Absolutely mental."

Harry grinned at him. "But we knew that already, didn't we?" Finished with his breakfast, Harry stood to leave.

"Harry, where are you going? We don't have class until-"

"Library. There's something I want to look up before class." He waved to them. "See you later, alright?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other questioningly. "First extra lessons with Snape and now he's going to the library before class starts?" Ron looked at Harry's vacant seat. "You think he's sick?"

But Harry had gone to the library to look up Anastasia King. The way Snape had acted (and yes, Harry had witnessed most of the fight; after all, how long does it take to bottle a few ounces of potion?) had suggested some personal hurt. In other words, he'd known King would take advantage of Harry because she'd likely taken advantage of Snape.

They'd seemed awful friendly, though, the first time Harry had walked in on them, and Snape wasn't exactly the forgiving sort. But maybe she'd come to make amends. After all, everyone now knew that Voldemort was at large and they were in danger. A lot of people were forgetting old feuds and forgiving old grievances because of that.

_What you saw was something that ended a long time ago_, Snape had said. But he'd been holding King's hand just minutes before saying that. Maybe it was something he hadn't wanted to end. Or maybe it was something he wanted to start again. And Harry had ruined it.

Once Madam Pince showed Harry the art section in the library (not very big; maybe he should tell Hermione so she'd forget SPEW and start campaigning for arts in the curriculum), he quickly found a book about King. Actually, he'd found more than a few with King mentioned (Snape hadn't been kidding when he said King was one of the most famous wizarding artists of all time), but the one he ended up pulling from the shelves had a decent-length biography, and pictures of some of her most famous works.

And what he read made him feel a bit queasy. King not only focused on and emphasized the flaws of her subjects, but that was all she painted. And she used magic to show not only physical flaws but emotional and psychological ones as well.

_Seems like someone Snape _would_ be friends with_, Harry thought uncharitably, turning the page.

_King's first portrait in this style, _The Art of Potions, _was done when she was only a few years out of Hogwarts. It has quickly become her most famous painting, although in recent years, King has refused to show it. King never reveals the subjects of her paintings, but rumors abound. It's been said that although King's portraits never truly look like their subject, someone familiar with that person- especially familiar with the darker side of that person which King paints- can see the identity of the portrait. Even if that is so, no one has stepped forward to identify the man featured in _The Art of Potions.

There was no picture. Harry felt vaguely disappointed. The book said King hadn't given them permission to reproduce it. But Harry had an inkling of who it was that King had painted in that portrait.

Harry had thought that Snape's argument with King had smacked of personal hurt, but had the betrayal been much more public than he'd realized?

_Potter has enough trouble concentrating without having his every flaw on display for the world to see._

And that was what Snape had saved him from. Harry brushed a finger over one of the pictures of King's work. And _that_ meant that Snape must really be over the whole hating him thing; any other year Snape might have been glad to let King paint him, just so he could point to it and say _see? Potter's what I always told you_.

Harry closed the book firmly, feeling he had plenty of food for thought for one morning. He checked his watch and grimaced; if he didn't run he'd be late for Transfiguration. As it was, though, he didn't think he'd much be able to concentrate on the class. There was too much else to think about.


	3. Chapter 3

And here we get into all the juicy emotional stuff. Just fyi, I'm a psych major, so if I start spouting off terms like Sternberg's triangle theory of love, let me know. I've come to the point in my studies where I forget that this stuff isn't common knowledge, and since I've arrived at the juicy emotional stuff, I won't realize I'm doing it unless I start citing. I don't think it'll be a problem, but just keep your heads up.

And thanks to **Alika Jones, Okami. Lupus, **and **reader1writer1** for the reviews. Remember guys, this is my first fic, so I'd really appreciate you letting me know what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong. No flames, though. They'll be used to keep my behind toasty.

* * *

Snape had been right. The lab periods were exactly what Harry needed. His performance in Potions didn't exactly skyrocket, but it certainly improved. The lab periods consisted of researching the potions that Snape had assigned for that coming week, along with a lecture. Harry's lab reports, to be submitted the next class, detailed why each ingredient should be used, what were the most common mistakes made in the brewing method, and what methods could be used to fix those mistakes.

Harry found that he brewed better potions when he understood all of this, rather than just following the directions and hoping it came out okay. And it wasn't that Snape didn't teach them all of these things, but there wasn't enough time during a class to teach about every potion individually. Harry would still never be a Potions Master but he might just be able to do well enough on his NEWTs to become an Auror.

He was also becoming more used to Snape's new attitude as well. Not that it was all sunshine and roses with Snape, now- oh, no. The man was still bad-tempered, strict, and bitingly sarcastic. Sometimes he slipped up and insulted Harry for no good reason, but he would then stop himself and continue teaching as if nothing had happened. Harry appreciated that Snape was making the effort and tried to ignore the slip-ups as best he could, utilizing five years of practice in keeping his temper in check

He hadn't asked Snape about King's painting yet. The opportunity had never really presented itself, and (as un-Gryffindorish as it might sound) Harry was too nervous to bring it up. Snape was still Snape after all: still the most feared professor at Hogwarts, still quick to anger, and still tight-lipped about his personal life. Harry was almost beginning to enjoy this new truce they had; he was in absolutely no rush to ruin it, no matter how curious he was.

Still, when Snape presented him with an opportunity, Harry couldn't just ignore it.

Harry rapped politely on Snape's office door at 5 o'clock just as he did every Monday night. Snape was sitting at his desk, grading papers (did the man ever _not_ have papers to grade?), and Harry slid into the seat in front of him as per usual.

"Potter," he said by way of greeting. "This week is going to be only lecture, no practical, so tonight I'll be giving you a demonstration on how to detect discrepancies in your potions ingredients and how to compensate for them. It's more advanced than I normally teach my sixth years, so I don't expect you to be able to do this perfectly. Awareness of this, however, can only help your potions-brewing." Snape set aside his quill and mark-book, looking up at Harry directly. For some reason, Harry found Snape's gaze unnerving tonight. "But before we begin, do you have any questions for me?"

Harry swallowed hard. That was an opening if he'd ever seen one. Snape's dark eyes seemed to bore straight into him, and Harry found it easier to look at a point just past the man's ear. "Err, professor, I… I looked up Anastasia King like you suggested," Snape's mouth tightened, but he didn't interrupt. Relieved, Harry plowed on. "And, um, are you- I mean, did she- she painted you, didn't she? And that's why…" Harry trailed off at the look on Snape's face. The Potions Master's lips were white and his nostrils were flared. He looked like he was controlling himself with difficulty. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, it's none of my business-" Harry said in a rush.

"Potter." Snape's voice was soft. "You're right, it _isn't_ any of your business." He spoke slowly, carefully. Harry suspected that Snape was taking great care not to say anything out of anger and he was very glad of that; he had a feeling that if Snape let himself go, Harry would leave there bleeding from his ears and feeling about three inches tall. "But I suppose I opened that door when I told you to look her up. Yes, Ms. King did paint me. I was her very first subject." He paused as though considering something. "Did you see it?"

Harry shook his head. "No, the book said King wouldn't give permission to reproduce it."

Snape looked almost relieved. "If that's all Potter-?"

Harry wanted to ask more, but he figured he'd pushed Snape far enough for one night. "Yes, professor. Thank you."

Snape gave him a long look. "It's hard enough," he said finally, "to have everyone look at that painting and see everything wrong with you, even when you know that they don't realize it's you. But rest assured, Potter, she would have made sure people knew it was you. And that is a fate I would wish on no one."

In that moment, there were so many things Harry wanted to say to Snape. But sitting under that uncomfortable black gaze, he couldn't find the words. "I… thank you, professor," he managed, lamely.

Snape inclined his head briefly. "Since it seems you have no questions on the subject matter, please follow me into the classroom for the demonstration." And without another word, Snape swept into the other room, his robes billowing out behind him in his usual, oddly graceful, bat-like manner.

Harry blinked slowly as he stood to follow. _I think,_ he thought dazedly, _I just had a bonding moment with Snape._ Then he stopped in his tracks. _Wait, did I _really_ just think of Snape as 'graceful'?_

"Sometime tonight, if you please, Potter," Snape called testily.

_Ron was right,_ Harry thought as he hurried into the next room. _I have completely and totally lost my mind._

* * *

_I've gone completely insane,_ Severus thought, glaring at his heavily smoking cauldron, as though it were personally responsible for ruining his potion. _That's the only explanation. Complete and total insanity._

With a frustrated flick of his wand, he Vanished the liquid (he refused to call it "potion"). He could count on his fingers the number of times he'd messed up a potion, and still have fingers to spare. And yet, he'd totally and completely fucked up this relatively simple one. Because he'd been distracted, lost in his thoughts. Thoughts about Potter.

He had been remembering Potter finishing his Frangible Clavis potion before Granger with pride. Yes, pride. He told himself that he was proud of _himself_ for making Potter an adequate potions-maker, and turned his mind from it. But that brought to mind Potter's lab report.

Potter had spent far too long extolling the virtues of the Frangible Clavis, which Severus had found odd; most wizards didn't bother with the potion and actually thought it rather useless. The only reason Severus taught it was that the potion was sufficiently complicated (and yet too stable to blow up) to test the current abilities of his NEWTs students. But Potter apparently hadn't agreed.

_The purpose of the Frangible Clavis is to make locks and locking charms easier to break_, he'd written. _For locking spells, the Frangible Clavis reduces the power to the point where such charms as Alohomora can undo them. The Frangible Clavis can even be used on mundane locks, causing them to become brittle. The wizard can then use physical force to break it open. This would have been useful in situations where a wizard is locked up and unable to do magic._

Severus had frowned at the grammatical error. _Would have been useful_. While Potter was certainly not immune to making errors, he was usually able to keep his tenses straight.

It was only later, shying away from thoughts concerning 'pride' and 'Potter,' preparing a potion that he _thought_ he could brew in his sleep, that Severus remembered an image he'd picked up from Harry's mind during Occlumency lessons last year:

_Harry as a young child, sitting in a cramped, dark room, trying not to make a sound as he cried, a loud voice bellowing outside, something about 'useless brat' and 'weirdness' and 'no meals.'_

At the time, Severus had dismissed it, assuming it to be simple discipline, something that he would have sworn Potter hadn't gotten enough of growing up. Now, though, he was beginning to suspect something quite opposite, and that made Potter's grammatical error rather telling. _Would have been useful_ was a rather wistful turn of phrase.

It was while he was pondering this disturbing thought that Severus' potion started smoking profusely, reminding him that he'd been neglecting it. That was when Severus realized he was slowly going insane.

Abandoning his brewing attempts, Severus sank behind his desk, resting his head in his hands. _Potter wasn't abused,_ he told himself. _I'm his teacher, I would have noticed._

_Would you?_ a smug little voice in the back of his head asked. _Until recently, you saw what you wanted to see; a smug, arrogant, spoiled little clone of his father. Wasn't any of those, was he?_

_Even Minerva has said how well-adjusted he is, _he argued. _None of his professors have noticed anything to indicate abuse._

_And maybe they're seeing what they want to see, too. After all, he's the Chosen One, the Golden Boy, the Boy-Who-Lived. They're all selectively blind when it comes to his imperfections._

_Albus would have seen it. He would have put a stop to it. He watched the boy growing up._

_And wouldn't Albus have just seen that as a character-building exercise,_ the voice snarled. _Learning to face adversity so he could eventually face the Dark Lord, or some such nonsense that Albus loves to spew. So long as Potter's life wasn't in danger, he wouldn't have interfered._

And Severus had no rebuttal to that. "I just lost an argument with myself," Severus muttered into his hands. "I have well and truly lost my mind."

* * *

Severus had debated taking his suspicions to Minerva- as Potter's Head of House, she was in a better position to ask the boy about these matters- but he ultimately decided against it. Gryffindor that she was, she'd haul the boy into her office immediately for verification. And even if he denied it, she'd watch him like a hawk the rest of his school days. That would not fail to attract the attention. Once the story broke around the school (and it would), it would get to the papers. And if Potter _had_ been abused, he needed time to accept it and heal, not have it splashed across headlines. As a Slytherin, Severus knew how to be discreet about these matters, he already had one-on-one time scheduled with Potter, and if Potter left his office looking upset, everyone would just suspect that Severus had been in a foul mood. So Severus decided that _he_ was the ideal choice to confront Potter. Insane? Most definitely, but Severus had accepted that.

When Potter entered his office, Severus put a silencing charm around the room, just to ensure Potter's privacy.

The boy seemed to sense that there was something different going on. He hesitated in the doorway, tugging at his fringe. "Sit, Potter," Severus said, indicating the boy's usual spot in front of his desk. "I have something I'd like to discuss."

The boy sat and spotted his report on Severus' desk. "Is there something wrong with my paper, sir?"

It was as much of an opening as Severus was ever likely to get. "In a way. Did you know that most wizards view Frangible Clavis as next to useless, Potter? It's complicated to brew, and doesn't have much of a shelf life. So unless a wizard expects to be locked up quite often, or he has unlimited time and resources, he isn't going to bother brewing it. I'm quite surprised you didn't find that in your research."

Potter shifted uncomfortably. "Well… I did, sir. I just- that's opinion, isn't it? Not fact."

"Indeed." That was a response worthy of a Slytherin, and had the situation been less grave, Severus might have rewarded points for it. "And yet, you spend a great deal of parchment explaining just how useful the potion is. Tell me, Potter, is that not opinion as well?"

Potter was tugging on his fringe again, and Severus had to restrain himself from stopping the boy. "You assigned the potion, so I thought maybe you thought it was useful?" Severus was sure that Potter hadn't meant that as a question, but his voice had turned uncertain. It was likely that the boy hadn't realized why he wrote about the potion in this manner. Severus suppressed a frown. He'd have to treat this very delicately.

"Ah. Tailoring the essay to what you think the professor wants to hear. A time-honored tradition among students. But the pitfall to that strategy is that you can't really know what the professor wants to read." Severus leaned forward a bit, to catch Potter's eyes. "You want to know why I teach the Frangible Clavis, Potter? Because it's a good assessment of potions-making ability. I personally think it's as useless as the books say."

"But it's not!" Potter blurted. He then covered his mouth in embarrassment.

Severus ignored the outburst. "You also make an odd error, here," he said, looking back at the paper. "'This would have been useful…' You suddenly change tense. Tell me Potter, what were you thinking about?"

When Severus looked back up, it was at a decidedly uncomfortable boy. Potter was practically squirming in his chair, tugging at his fringe so hard, Severus feared he would rip his hair out. Instead of waiting for an answer, Severus stood and placed a hand on the boy's wrist. Potter looked up at him, startled, as though he'd forgotten the Potions Master was there. "When would it have been useful, Harry?" Severus asked softly. "When you were with your muggle relatives?"

Potter blanched. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

Severus pressed his lips together in a hard, thin line. "I picked up an image from your mind last year," he admitted, "of a small, dark room-"

Potter jerked violently out of Severus' grasp. "So what?" he snarled. "Since when do _you_ care?"

Severus tamped down on his automatic response to snap back. "Potter, it's my _job_ to care."

"Fine, you cared! You fulfilled your duty. You can sleep easier now."

Severus took a slow, deep breath, hanging onto his temper tooth and nail. "Potter, you need to talk about this."

"With _you_?" he snorted derisively. "I'll bet you liked that image didn't you? Me growing up in that fucking cupboard. I'll bet it got you off, didn't it, James Potter's son slaving for the muggles, locked up and starved for not being perfectly normal-"

"They _starved_ you?" Severus asked in shock. Potter looked away and said nothing. It was clear that he hadn't meant to let that slip. Suddenly the boy's short stature made horrifying sense to Severus. "Potter, all I got were snippets of images. I didn't put it together until you made that mistake in your essay." Severus sat on the edge of his desk in front of the boy, who still refused to look at him. "Frangible Clavis is often taught to St. Mungo's patients with severe claustrophobia, those who generally have some trauma involving small, dark spaces."

"Bully for them," Potter muttered darkly, still looking away.

"Knowing how to brew the potion often helps them open up and talk about the trauma," Severus continued, trying to ignore Potter's insolence. "And talking about it is the only way they can heal. Talking about it is the only way _you_ can heal."

"I'm _fine_."

"Harry." At the sound of his given name, Potter looked up. "You don't have to be strong, here. You don't have to be the Chosen One, or the Boy-Who-Lived or the bloody savior of the wizarding world. In my office, you are just another student. Just another human."

Potter crumpled at that, making a noise halfway between laughter and a sob and sagged forward resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "They never… I never _feel_ human." He rubbed his face with his hands, and Severus suspected he was fighting back tears. "All I ever wanted was to be _normal_. But my aunt and uncle always called me freak and tried to forget about me. And here everyone expects me to do something amazing and kill Voldemort and what if I _can't_?"

Severus stood next to him and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You don't have to," he said grimly. "Why do you think the Order was formed?"

"But-"

"No buts. It is foolish to put the world's fate on the shoulders of a sixteen-year-old boy not yet out of school." Severus managed his customary sneer. "If you are our only hope, then I would consider us well and truly fucked."

Potter was startled into laughter that was only partially hysterical. "I can't get used to this," he said once he'd caught his breath, wiping wetness from his eyes. "You being nice. Having a sense of humor."

"I endeavor to be an enigma."

Potter laughed again, this time more of a tired chuckle, and Severus decided he'd put the boy through enough for one night. "We'll talk more at a later date." He left his hand on Potter's shoulder for a moment longer before sitting back behind his desk. "And if you would like, you may pick up your potion sample before you leave tonight."

And Potter gave him a look so vulnerable that Severus could barely believe it was the same boy. "Thank you, sir," he whispered hoarsely.

Severus had to clear his throat as his mouth had suddenly gone dry. _I deserve to be committed_, he thought distantly, _tied up in a straight jacket and locked away for the good of society_. Because all he could think about was how kissable Harry bloody Potter had looked in that moment.


	4. Chapter 4

This probably should have been two chapters, but I didn't want to give you guys two short chapters. So I combined them into a longer one.

Thank you to my reviewers: **Kairu117**, **Zarathustra46**, **Alika Jones**, **WynterRavenheart**, and **themrs**, not to mention all the alerters, favoriters, and people who added my story to their C2s (C2ers?). I'm quite pleased with the response to this story.

* * *

"I dream about it sometimes," Potter said without preamble the next time he sat in front of Severus' desk. He drew a knee up under his chin. Severus would normally protest as that brought Potter's shoe in contact with his furniture, but he pretended to ignore it. It was a protective pose that Potter had unconsciously assumed. "The cupboard." He shook his head. "It didn't bother me while I was in it, but now-"

"You feel like you can't be free of it?" Severus completed for him, softly.

Potter looked up at him briefly and looked away, picking at the fabric of his uniform. "Why does it bother me so much now?"

"I'm no Healer, Potter. All I can offer you are theories." Severus steepled his fingers in front of him. "While your- muggle relatives," Severus couldn't bring himself to say 'aunt and uncle,' "kept you in that cupboard, you had to endure. You had no time to be scared. And I'm guessing protest would just warrant further punishment." Potter didn't look up, didn't make any sign. He continued to pick at his uniform. Severus took that as an affirmative. "So there was nothing you could do about it and your mind pushed it away. You couldn't grow if you were constantly terrified. It wasn't that it didn't bother you, it was that you couldn't _allow_ it to bother you."

Potter stopped picking and looked up again, this time holding Severus' gaze. "So what do I do now?" he asked. "How do I fix it?"

Typical Gryffindor, looking for a quick fix. "There is no potion or spell to heal you, Potter. As your friend Weasley learned, memories leave deep wounds. And those wounds may never completely heal."

"So what- I do therapy? Talk about my feelings?" Potter snorted in derision. "Like the Daily Prophet won't figure out what I'm up to if I show up at St. Mungo's once a week."

"While the Healers at St. Mungo's are best qualified for this kind of work, talking with one of your professors will likely suffice. I can notify Professor McGonagall if you'd like. Or Madam Pomfrey-"

But Potter was shaking his head violently. Severus bit back a sigh. "Who then, Potter?" he asked, knowing what the answer would be. But Potter had to be the one to suggest it. After the rather disturbing thoughts he'd been having about the boy all week, he wouldn't put him into such a vulnerable position without Potter's consent.

"I- what about you, sir?" he asked tentatively. "I mean, you already know, right? So-"

"So you'll willingly give me that kind of ammunition against you?" Severus asked with a sneer. Potter's shocked look showed just how far they'd both come in a few months.

"Y-you wouldn't-"

"You rely too much on blind faith, Potter." The sneer disappeared. "_Think_ about it. In my office you are just a student, but outside of these walls, information on your weaknesses command a high price. Do you place so much trust in me, a confirmed Death Eater?"

"Yes."

For a moment Severus couldn't breathe. A few months of their tentative truce had completely wiped away five years of enmity, it seemed. Potter was looking away again, pulling on his hair, giving Severus time to school his expression to something that wasn't so shocked. No one had ever trusted him so simply, so completely, and Merlin knew he'd given Potter plenty of reason to mistrust him in the past.

"Potter-"

"Dumbledore trusts you," the boy interrupted. "And you're a part of the Order. And you've had an entire week to leak the story and you _haven't_. And no Death Eaters came at me in Hogsmeade trying to stuff me into a little box, so I'll assume you won't tell Vol- You-Know-Who." He gave a little half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Besides, you're the one who keeps insisting I have to talk about it, so why should I burden anyone else with this?"

"Cheeky," Severus muttered, almost to himself. "Fine then, Potter. If you can manage to be so flip about it, tell me."

"Tell you what?" Potter asked with a puzzled look.

"Tell me about the cupboard."

* * *

Harry found himself telling Snape things he'd never told anyone, not even Ron and Hermione. Ron knew, of course, how bad things had been the summer before second year, but he'd always assumed that had been the worst of it. Harry had let him believe that. Truthfully, though, there had been no food flap on the cupboard. There had been days when his only food consisted of lunch at school (Aunt Petunia always packed him one since the Dursleys wouldn't trust him with lunch money, and the teachers would notice if Harry consistently went without lunch). Some Saturdays they would forget to feed him if he was locked in his cupboard, but they always remembered by Sunday; they certainly didn't want him too weak to go to school on Monday. And there had been weeks when Harry's only reprieve from the cupboard had been school. Aunt Petunia would let him out in time for the school bus and shut him back in when he got home.

Harry had half-expected Snape to interrupt him, accuse him of lying or at least exaggeration, or ridicule him. But Snape listened attentively. Sometimes his mouth would tighten or his eyes would darken. The only time Snape spoke was to ask questions or (even more strangely) assure Harry that his actions had not warranted such severe punishment.

Over time, Harry found it easier to talk about his time at the Dursleys'. When he finally realized that Snape wouldn't ridicule him, he shared things like how terrified he'd been of Ripper, Aunt Marge's bulldog, how he learned to cry quietly in his cupboard so Uncle Vernon wouldn't hear him and extend his punishment, and how much he'd sometimes wished desperately he could have been Dudley, despite how much he hated his cousin.

When Harry was describing how they'd encouraged Dudley to beat him with his Smeltings stick, Snape made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Harry stopped short at the sound. "What?"

"Potter, you never told _anyone_ about this?" Snape asked rubbing his forehead. "Not a friend or a teacher or one of those muggle peace-keepers- police men?"

"Ron knows a bit."

"A bit," Snape repeated dryly. "No one else."

"Just you, sir."

Snape pinched the bridge of his hook-like nose, and Harry suddenly worried that the Potions Master had had enough. "You aren't going back there this summer," he said instead through gritted teeth.

"I- what?"

"I've sat here and listened to you talk about being shut in a small closet and starved half to death like it was _nothing_ and I will not allow you to go back there." He gave Harry a long, hard look, and Harry was sure he must look absolutely shell-shocked. "What they did," Snape said, very slowly, "was criminal, and if I had my way…" Snape trailed off without finishing.

Harry just gaped at his professor. Of all the things he had expected Snape to say, of all the things he thought Snape would interrupt him with, that wasn't even on the list.

"Did you know, Potter, that those are tried and true methods of breaking a prisoner? That your childhood was spent in a way that most grown men would consider torture?"

"I never-" Harry faltered, "I mean I always thought that it could have been worse-"

Snape laughed, a terrible, hollow, mirthless laugh. "It could have been worse?"

Harry shrank back in his chair. "I mean they never beat me or- or touched me-"

Snape sobered at once. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to laugh," he said in an oddly gentle tone. "Harry, what they did was just as bad. Is that why you never told anyone? Because you thought you were fine as long as they didn't beat you?"

"Well…yeah. I guess." Harry shrugged feeling at a loss. It always threw him for a bit of a loop when Snape called him by his first name. "It never really occurred to me to say anything. Would have felt like I was whining or something.

Snape rubbed his forehead again. "Whining," he repeated in a strangled voice. "You are definitely _never_ going back there."

"Err, sir, Professor Snape, where will I go?"

"There are a number of places you can go and be safe, Potter." Harry felt an odd sense of disappointment at the vague answer. Snape looked up and seemed to realize that didn't satisfy Harry. "I assure you, Potter, you will not be going back to that house even if you have to stay with me."

And that, Harry realized, was the answer he'd half been waiting for. It was odd; less than a year ago Harry would have said that living with Snape would have been just as bad- or worse- than living with the Dursleys. Now, however… "You'd do that, professor? For me?"

"Those _people_," Snape spat the word as though the Dursleys didn't even deserve to be called that, "shouldn't be trusted to take care of a cat, never mind the bloody Chosen One."

Normally, Harry hated it when people called him that, as though he wasn't even human, just a weapon to be used against Voldemort. But he knew Snape never meant it in that way. After all, as he always said, Harry was just a student in his office.

"_Whining_," Snape muttered again, turning his eyes heavenward as though asking for patience. Eventually he looked back down at Harry. "I think that's enough for the night. Now the potions I have planned for class this week…"

* * *

Severus decided he would get spectacularly drunk that night. If he didn't, he might go down to Little Whinging and murder those people who dared to call themselves Potter's caretakers. He'd heard plenty to make him angry at them, but to hear Potter talk about it like it was nothing more than every other child went through, that to tell someone about it would feel like _whining_… Severus burned with anger at the very thought of it.

Severus might not have been the most beloved professor at Hogwarts, he might have taken pleasure in cultivating his 'nasty' reputation, and he even might have been the first to admit that he wasn't an especially good man, but even he had his limits. And the neglect and abuse of a child who had born it all silently and without complaint, well that pushed him very far beyond those limits.

_Especially since you like Potter a little more than you should, eh Sev?_ that nasty little voice asked in the back of his head.

Severus didn't respond to it; he'd quickly learned the voice knew better than him and to argue with it was to lose. Never mind how absolutely insane that statement was.

Severus poured himself a hearty shot of Ogden's Best and downed it in one gulp, relishing in the burn. He poured another one, took the glass and the bottle, and sank into his couch in front of the blazing fire. He sipped at the glass, brooding as he stared into the fire.

The voice was right, of course. It always was. Severus had found himself looking at Potter with wholly inappropriate thoughts in his head. Thoughts that would get him fired, if not arrested. Thoughts that included Potter looking up at him with those warm, trusting eyes as he…

_Stop!_ Down that path lay certain madness.

_I thought we already established that you _were_ mad, Sev,_ the voice whispered, sounding gleeful. _Some nice little fantasies about you deflowering Harry Potter won't hurt._

Severus frowned as he poured himself another shot. The voice was definitely wrong about that. The fantasies would have been harmless if Severus hadn't been spending so much time alone with Har- Potter. No, being closed in a little room once a week with the newfound star of his fantasies was dangerous. Severus poured himself another drink.

"This is all your fault," he muttered, gesturing violently at the brown-paper package propped up against the mantle. "If I looked at you now, would you show me as a pedophile?" He drained his glass.

_Potter's over the age of consent,_ the voice supplied helpfully, _so you aren't a pedophile._

"Just a pervert, then? Good to know."

_What's perverted about it? It's been quite a while, Severus. A fantasy life is perfectly healthy. And no one has to know._

He never took his eyes off of the unopened package. "You'd know," Severus murmured at the painting in the corner. "You'd know." And for once, the voice didn't have a response.

Severus poured himself another drink. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

During breakfast the next morning, Hedwig dropped a note in front of Harry, narrowly missing his eggs. Harry quickly rescued the parchment from his breakfast and stroked his owl affectionately as he examined the note. It had no address, so it was from someone inside the school. _Probably Hagrid,_ he thought with pleasure, realizing he hadn't seen the half-giant as often as he'd have liked this term. Between the sixth-year coursework and his sessions with Snape, there just hadn't been time. Harry wasted no time in ripping it open, expecting an invitation to come down and visit. Instead, the note contained a single sentence in Snape's now-familiar handwriting:

_Don't be stupid_.

Harry frowned at the note, trying to puzzle out what Snape meant by it. He didn't have anything especially foolhardy or illegal planned, so Snape couldn't mean that. "What on earth…?" Harry murmured to himself, turning the note over in his hands just in case there was something written on the other side. There wasn't.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up to see Ron and Hermione looking at him with concern. Hedwig looked affronted that he'd stopped petting her. He fed his owl a bit of bacon to appease her, and handed the note over to his two best friends. "From Snape," he clarified, just in case they didn't recognize his handwriting.

They both frowned at it as Harry had. After a few moments, they looked back up at him. "Did something, err, happen last night Harry?" Ron asked. "With Snape?"

"Nothing unusual." _Nothing except him offering to let me live with him._ A part of Harry squirmed at the fact that he was essentially lying to his best friends, but he couldn't tell them that without telling them the truth about the Dursleys. And that would just worry them unnecessarily. Besides, that couldn't possibly have anything to do with the note. _Unless Snape is saying I shouldn't be stupid and actually believe the offer,_ Harry realized suddenly, with a feeling of something almost like dread in the pit of his stomach. If that was the case, well… he hadn't really let himself hope anyway. Still, it would have been nice to leave the Dursleys a few months early.

"You don't have anything _planned_, do you Harry?" Hermione asked, giving him a significant look.

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts. "Nothing _stupid _if that's what you're asking."

Hermione didn't look convinced. She opened her mouth as if to ask something else, but Ron interrupted her. "Lay off it, Hermione. Harry wouldn't tell _Snape_ something like that. Especially before us. At least, not unless he was drugged with Veritaserum," Ron added with a little laugh. Inwardly, Harry winced. He'd been telling Snape an awful lot that he hadn't told Ron and Hermione.

Ron must have noticed some sort of change in Harry's expression because he paled. "He- he hasn't been dosing you with Veritaserum, has he?"

"Wha-? _No_. Of course not. Don't be stupid, Ron." Harry shook his head in disbelief. "He'd get canned for that. And maybe even arrested." Snape had told him in his fourth year that Veritaserum use was monitored very closely by the Ministry.

Harry looked up at the Head Table to see if he could find some clue in the man's eyes. But to his surprise, Snape wasn't there. Sitting in his customary spot was a woman that looked familiar to Harry. He sucked in a sharp breath.

Ron and Hermione both looked in the same direction. Hermione frowned. "Is that who I think it is?"

"That's Anastasia King," Harry supplied grimly. He'd seen her both in Snape's office and in the library book. He wasn't at all pleased to see her again.

"The woman that does those _awful_ portraits?" Hermione made a face. "What on earth is she doing _here_?"

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked desperately, and Hermione explained King's portraits to him.

"I think I know what the note means," Harry interrupted. He described the scene in Snape's office, although he left out the fact that King had painted Snape.

"That was… decent of him," Ron said with some surprise.

Hermione ignored him. "So you think Professor Snape is warning you against letting King paint you?"

"I think it's more… not to trust her." _You rely too much on blind faith, Potter. Don't be stupid._

Hermione nodded. "That's sound advice. I think it would be best to avoid her as much as possible, too." Hermione looked back at Harry and there was concern in her eyes. "Don't give her anything to use against you. We don't want a Rita Skeeter repeat."

Harry and Ron both shuddered at the idea.

But avoiding King would be harder than any of them thought. Harry and Hermione walked into the Potions dungeon (Ron had sworn that he would have nothing more to do with Potions, never mind that he hadn't gotten an Oustanding on his OWLs like Hermione, or had had Professor McGonagall swear to help him become an Auror, like Harry), only to see King standing in the front of the classroom.

They stopped in their tracks upon seeing her. "Come on in, come on in!" She said cheerfully. "Professor Snape is ill today, so Professor Dumbledore asked me to take over the class until he's well again."

King looked the exact opposite of Snape, wearing jeans and dragonhide boots and a wide-sleeved peasant blouse. Her long brown hair was pulled back using some kind of iridescent ribbon that changed color every time she moved. Her face was expressive, and she sported a healthy tan.

Harry and Hermione frowned at each other, but said nothing. Instead of sitting in the front as Hermione generally liked (easier to see the board, she claimed), they both silently agreed to move their seats towards the back for once. "He wasn't ill last night," Harry muttered to Hermione as they slid into their seats. "D'you think she…"

"Don't be stupid," Hermione scoffed. She gave a little grin when Harry made a face. "See? Sound advice. But do you really think Professor Dumbledore would ask her to teach the class if she had done something to Professor Snape? For that matter, don't you think Professor Snape would have been able to defend himself?"

Harry nodded. That made sense. "So you think he's doing something for the Order?" Harry lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper.

Hermione tapped her finger with her lips. "Possibly," she said thoughtfully. "Or maybe he's really sick."

Harry stared at her. She shrugged. "I agree with you, Harry. I don't think Professor Snape would willingly take the day off unless he was on his deathbed. But Professor Dumbledore might have _made_ him take the day. With everything he's been doing," Hermione waved her arms vaguely, and Harry knew what she meant: classes, work for the Order, being a double agent, and (Harry winced) doing sessions with him, "it's a wonder his health _hasn't_ suffered."

Harry rubbed his forehead; like always, Hermione's argument made sense. But before he could say anything else, King called the class to order.

"Hello everybody!" she said brightly. "My name is Anastasia King, and I'll be taking over the class for today since Professor Snape is ill."

Malfoy's hand shot up into the air. "What's wrong with him?" the blond asked without waiting to be called on.

"Mainly dehydration," she answered with an odd twinkle in her eye. Harry felt suddenly angry that she found Snape's illness amusing. Seeming to sense his mood, Hermione placed a restraining hand on his arm. "Rest assured that it's nothing life-threatening and he'll be back teaching by tomorrow. In the meantime," she hopped up to sit on Snape's desk, "you're stuck with me."

To Harry's surprise, Hermione raised her hand. "Excuse me, but aren't you a painter?"

King seemed pleased that someone recognized her. "Why yes, Miss-"

"Hermione Granger. So why did Professor Dumbledore ask you to take over the class?"

Harry struggled to keep his expression schooled; for Hermione, that was a downright rude way of addressing a teacher, even a substitute. The few Gryffindors in the room looked surprised as well, but everyone looked at King, waiting for her answer.

If King thought it was rude, she made no sign. Instead she smiled, an oddly secretive smile. "That's a valid question, Miss Granger. I use a number of different potions in my paintings, of course. But potions-making is not so different from painting. It's an art, Miss Granger, not a science. Every true Potions Master, including Professor Snape, knows this. In fact, I tutored Professor Snape when we were in Hogwarts. You might say he became the Potions Master he is today because of me."

"Somehow I doubt that," Harry whispered belligerently to Hermione, feeling oddly defensive.

"Shhh."

King looked over in their direction, but said nothing. Harry stared defiantly back at her. Snape might not have been a nice man, he might have far too much fun taking points and assigning detentions, and he might occasionally make first years cry, but he was a brave man and an honest man. He didn't make a living exploiting the weaknesses of others. _He's twice the person you can ever hope to be_, Harry thought angrily at the artist. Hermione's restraining hand tightened on his arm, and Harry wondered briefly if she was using Legilimency.

After that the class started off as normal. King had them start on one of the Potions that Harry had researched last night, putting the directions on the board. Harry and Hermione agreed that she would go into the potions stores for both of them, as Harry pretended to look up the potion. Going into the storeroom would bring him right past King, and they agreed that it was best to keep Harry as far away from her as they could manage.

But it seemed King had been waiting for that, because as soon as Hermione was out of sight, King was in front of him. She was there so fast that Harry wondered if she'd used a Portkey. He pretended to take notes from his text.

"Aren't you Harry Potter?" she asked sweetly.

_As if you didn't know._ "Uh-huh." He didn't look up.

"I was wondering if you'd allow me to paint a portrait-"

"I know what kind of portraits you paint, Ms. King," Harry interrupted, "and I'm not interested."

If he'd surprised her, she didn't show it. "You know," she said conversationally, "years ago, I wanted to do a study of the prisoners in Azkaban, the long-term ones? And I only found one prisoner lucid enough to give me his consent. Sirius Black."

Harry's head whipped up at his godfather's name, and he knew the shock must have shown on his face. But King kept talking as though she hadn't noticed. "Now, I knew Sirius from Hogwarts, of course, but we were never very close. Different social circles, you understand. So I was shocked when he gave me his consent. He said it would break the monotony." She gave a small laugh. "Monotony. As if boredom was the only thing to worry about in Azkaban!" Harry felt the intense urge to slap her. "I'm actually quite proud of the portrait. It's one of my personal favorites. Unfortunately, it hasn't gained quite the attention that I'd hoped."

Harry felt relieved when she said that; people weren't clamoring to stare at his godfather's flaws. But King was leading up to something, and Harry had the feeling that it wasn't something very good. "I heard that Sirius' name was cleared last June. Posthumously." Harry's heart ached, and Anastasia shook her head sadly. "A very terrible story, but it's the kind that gains a lot of publicity, don't you think?"

At first, Harry didn't understand what she meant. And then he felt as though his heart was being squeezed. "You- you wouldn't. You never reveal-"

"No, I don't, but I don't see what other choice I have." She gave Harry a despairing look, but something hard glinted in her eyes. "I put more time and effort into that portrait than any other- do you know how hard it is to paint around dementors?- and I have to make it worth something." She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. "Perhaps we could make an exchange. I'll give you the painting if you agree to sit for me."

Harry felt sick. He thought of the note in his pocket. _Don't be stupid_. "I don't- I don't know-"

She patted his hand. "Think about it, Harry. I'll be in Hogsmeade until the end of the week. You can owl me until then. After that…" she shrugged and left to check on the other students.

"Sorry!" Hermione said as she came back a few moments later. "I couldn't find the… Harry?" Hermione immediately dropped the ingredients on the table, heedless. "What's wrong?"

"King's trying to blackmail me."

"You have to go to Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione hissed when Harry told her the story under the cover of brewing their potions. Harry knew Snape would be disappointed with his. Abysmal would be a kind description, but Harry simply couldn't concentrate. "She can't do that!"

_And what can Professor Dumbledore do?_ But he agreed, not wanting to argue. "After class. Don't want to give her the satisfaction… You can tell Flitwick I'm ill."

But Professor Dumbledore wasn't who Harry wanted to see, and instead of going to the headmaster's office after class, he went up to Gryffindor Tower to fetch the Marauder's Map. Holding the old parchment in his hands, Harry searched desperately for the dot labeled 'Severus Snape.'


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to my reviewers: **lulucats**; **WynterRavenheart**; **Greenberry Rhythm**; **WritergirlAD**; **the-dreamer4**; and **themrs**.

* * *

Severus wasn't technically ill. Of course, there had been vomiting and headaches and sensitivity to light and sound, but he wasn't ill. He was hungover.

Generally that wasn't a problem. Not that Severus made a habit of getting drunk often during the school year, but the few times it was necessary, he always had a hangover potion at the ready. This time, however, he'd forgotten to check before drinking, and had realized only this morning that he was out of the potion.

And for some baffling reason that only the headmaster knew, Albus had come to see him early that morning and had found Severus in his hungover state. Proclaiming the Potions Master too ill to teach class, the old wizard had bundled Severus into bed, called the house elves to bring him breakfast, and left saying, "Don't worry, my boy. Anastasia's still in town. She can take over your classes for the day."

That had really made Severus feel ill, the thought of Anastasia having access to Potter without his supervision. Potter wouldn't blindly agree to having his portrait painted, and Severus could be thankful for that, but Anastasia always did have this infuriating habit of getting her way. Scrawling a quick note, Severus handed it to the house elf that had brought his breakfast. He had to hope it would be enough of a warning.

Severus spent the next few hours pacing his rooms. He wanted desperately to take his classes back from Anastasia, but then he would have to explain to Albus that he'd only been hungover. And the headmaster would want to know why Severus had drank so much. He'd find out, too, and Severus wasn't too keen on finding out what the headmaster's reaction would be to Severus' fantasies of alternately shagging the Golden Boy and murdering his relatives. So Severus paced, feeling like a coward.

He watched the clock closely, feeling his stomach twist into knots as the time came for his sixth year class. The house elves whisked away his uneaten breakfast and brought him lunch that would remain just as untouched, although Severus did pick up his teacup to sip as he paced.

It was only a few minutes after the hour had ended that the knock came at the portrait that served as the door to his private rooms. The timing was too coincidental, and Severus put his teacup down as he hurried to open the portrait, knowing immediately who it must be and fearing the worst.

Sure enough, Potter stood there, looking even more disheveled than usual. He was pale, clutching his map tightly in a white-knuckled fist (which explained how he had known where Severus' private rooms were), and breathing heavily as though he'd run there. Without a word, Severus ushered him inside.

"H-heard you were ill," he gasped as Severus made him sit. The boy's green eyes were slightly unfocused. "You alright?" His skin looked clammy, and Severus had to force himself not to touch it.

"As much as I appreciate your concern for my health, Potter, I doubt that's the reason you came barging into my private rooms. What happened?"

Potter looked up at him desperately. "King. She's _evil_. She asked- I said no, but- Sirius, I can't let her do that to Sirius!" Potter was babbling. Severus frowned and Summoned a Calming Draught from his stores. He just hoped he could calm the boy down enough for him to drink it. "I can't let her. I can stop her- it's already all my fault-"

The boy heaved and Severus Summoned a basin just in time for Potter to vomit into it. "S-sorry. I'm sorry," he said, wiping at his mouth.

"Drink this," Severus said gently, holding the potion vial up to Potter's mouth. "You'll feel better." Potter didn't even ask what the potion was, just opened his mouth as Severus helped him tilt his head back and tipped the potion into his mouth. The back of Potter's neck was as clammy as Severus had thought.

The potion worked instantly. Severus could feel the tension drain from Potter's neck muscles- he snatched his hand away as he realized he'd left it there too long. "Now tell me what happened, Harry."

Severus could feel his anger build as Potter told him what Anastasia had threatened him with. It was little wonder that the boy was in enough emotional turmoil to throw up; he already blamed himself for Black's death. If Anastasia carried through with her threat, he would feel responsible for the wizarding world remembering Black only for his flaws. And Potter was too much of a Gryffindor to allow that.

"…I guess I'll just have to say yes," he finished despairingly. "I don't want to, but-"

"If you don't want to, then there is no way that woman is painting your portrait," Severus growled. Potter blinked up at him. "This might just be a bluff, but even if it isn't, do you seriously think Black would want you to do that for him?"

Potter blinked again, thoughtfully this time. Severus blessed the Calming Draught, because it would allow the boy to think about this rationally. He shook his head. "No, but I still can't let her do that to Sirius," he said stubbornly. "He spent half his life with everyone thinking he was a mass murderer. And now that everyone finally knows he's a hero…" He looked away, but not before Severus saw the pain on his face.

It was then that he knew he couldn't allow this to hurt Harry anymore. Severus didn't give a rat's ass about Black- actually having the world see his portrait would have pleased the more vindictive side of him- but Potter had been through enough. He wouldn't allow Anastasia to do this to the boy.

"All right," he said, and Harry looked back up at him. "I'll take care of it. Stay here and get some rest."

And Severus had to look away because the gratitude in Potter's eyes was heart-breaking. He pretended that he had simply turned away to call a house elf. "Bring some tea for Mr. Potter, please," he asked the creature. "And something to settle his stomach."

The creature nodded. "Yes sir," it chirped brightly, before disappearing, presumably to the kitchens.

Severus could feel Potter's gaze burning the back of his neck, but he didn't turn around. Instead he Flooed straight into his office. He could hear Anastasia's voice through the door to the classroom. Severus sat down at his desk and waited for the class to end.

It was his luck that when the class did end, Anastasia stepped into his office. She also didn't seem overly surprised to see him. "You look well for a man too sick to work, Sev," she said by way of greeting. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I don't take it very kindly when someone blackmails my students, Anastasia."

"I don't believe I know what you're talking about," she replied with a smile.

Severus had to clench his fists to keep from hexing her on the spot. How _dare_ she smile when Potter had shown up at his door too distressed to form a coherent sentence? "You know very well what I mean, Anastasia," he hissed through gritted teeth. "And I won't allow it. I'm here to call your bluff." She gave him the same look she would have given a mildly interesting painting. "You won't reveal Black as your subject otherwise you won't get any more. People won't sit for you if they know you'll reveal them after they die."

Anastasia just continued to smile. "Who'd have thought?" she mused. "James Potter's son goes crying to Severus Snape. James _and_ Sirius must be rolling over in their graves. I honestly thought he was made of stronger stuff than that and not go whining to Teacher."

The word _whining_ calmed Severus' temper. He was still angry- very, very angry- but he'd be able to do more for Potter if he kept a cool head. He hadn't been able to count on any of the adults in his life; Severus would be sure to change that. "Still doesn't change the fact that prospective clients might be rather leery of sitting with you if you leak Black's identity," Severus said with a cool sneer. "And when the papers find out that you're willing to blackmail Harry Potter to get his portrait, your career will be over."

"How would they even find out?" Anastasia scoffed. "Everyone knows that it's almost impossible to get an interview with Harry Potter. Dumbledore won't allow it."

It was Severus' turn to smile. "He did go _whining to Teacher_ after all. And I do have a few friends at the _Prophet_." At Anastasia's stunned look he added, "Do I have your word that you won't reveal Black?"

"Fine," she said, admitting defeat. Having what he came for, Severus turned away to leave, but Anastasia's next words stopped him. "Did you comfort him, Sev? Did he enjoy it?"

"What, exactly, are you implying?"

"You always were an equal opportunity guy, Sev. And you always did like them young. Young and vulnerable."

"You were hardly vulnerable," he drawled, not showing her just how close to home her words hit. If he could fool the Dark Lord, he could most certainly fool a half-rate artist.

"Did he cry into your shoulder? Did you kiss his tears away? Were you rough with him- you always did like it a bit rough, didn't you? Did you bargain with him, or was this just a favor to your little fuck toy?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "It's the ultimate revenge, isn't it, fucking James Potter's son? Tell me, do you imagine the look of utter disgust on James' face when you cum? Do you imagine how horrified he'd be if he saw you with his son on his knees-"

"You have an overactive imagination, Ms. King," Severus interrupted. "And I'll thank you to leave me out of your disgusting little fantasies."

"You forget, Sev, I know you. I know all of your dirty little secrets."

"And that isn't one of them. Good day, Ms. King." Severus swept out of his office, feeling a knot in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

Potter was dosing when Severus returned to his rooms, a side-effect of the Calming Draught. The knot in his stomach intensified. He had Harry Potter alone in his private rooms, drugged and completely vulnerable.

_You always did like them young. Young and vulnerable._

This was bad, dangerous. Severus gently shook Potter awake. "Professor?" the boy blinked sleepily up at him. "Did you-?"

"You don't have to worry about Ms. King anymore, Potter. You should get back to your dormitory."

Potter rubbed his eyes, looking terribly young. "'M tired."

"That's the Calming Draught I gave you. Not to mention the emotional upheaval you went through today. You need to go back to your dormitory and rest."

"Want to stay here," Potter mumbled. "It's safe here."

Severus froze at those words. Potter certainly wouldn't think it was safe here if he could see inside his professor's head. _This is bad, Sev. Very, very bad._ He sank down on the sofa next to the boy. "Potter-"

But Potter seemed to think that Severus had already acquiesced, because he settled down further into the couch, closing his eyes. Severus rubbed his own eyes tiredly. "I'm not a saint," he muttered at the prone figure. Potter didn't stir.

With a sigh, Severus stood to fetch a blanket. The boy might as well be comfortable if he was going to sleep there. By the time he got back, Potter had stretched out the length of the couch. "Typical Gryffindor," Severus huffed as he covered the black-haired boy.

Something caught his hand. Severus looked down to meet half-lidded green eyes. "Thank you," Potter murmured, his voice thick with sleep, "for everything."

"It was nothing Potter. Get some rest."

"Like your hands." Potter let go of him with a sigh and settled back in. "You have nice hands."

Severus nearly ran for his bathroom and shut the door behind him. He gripped the sides of his sink hard as though to steady himself. "I'm not a saint," he repeated, looking into the mirror. "I'm not. And if this keeps up, I'll do something I regret."

The mirror said nothing- Severus loathed the talking mirrors that populated the rest of the wizarding world; he'd gotten sick of the comments about his greasy hair, his large nose, and his sallow skin. He had a perfectly silent muggle mirror. But right now, he wished for its input. He wasn't an attractive man, he'd come to terms with that fact. And he'd known that his lovers hadn't been with him for his appearance (although one had said she'd liked how long and lean his body was, but she had also wanted his help studying for her potions mastery, so he'd taken that with a grain of salt). That simple, innocent compliment, spoken when the boy was half-asleep, and probably completely unaware that he was speaking out loud, was one of the few, true compliments Severus had ever received in his life for something other than his potions.

Potter didn't want anything from him. Potter had come to him today because the boy _trusted_ Severus, and Severus stood here, hardly a breath away, entertaining all sorts of… thoughts about him.

Severus rested his forehead against the cool glass of his mirror. "I'm not a saint," he said again. "I'm not." But apparently he was a masochist, because instead of waking Potter and sending him away, instead of canceling their Monday night sessions, Severus conjured and armchair in his sitting room and watched the boy sleep.

* * *

When Harry woke, he was momentarily confused. He wasn't in Gryffindor Tower, and he wasn't in the Hospital Wing. Then he remembered seeking out Snape after class and falling asleep in the man's quarters. He flushed remembering that right before he'd fallen asleep he'd been thinking how nice Snape's hands were. He had long, deft fingers like a pianist, graceful, too. Harry thought he might have even said something to that affect and felt immediately mortified.

"Are you finally awake, Potter?"

Harry looked up to see Snape sitting in an armchair. Harry suddenly realized what a huge imposition he must have been; not only had he barged into the man's rooms and told him what had happened, but Snape had then gone to fix everything with King while Harry fell asleep on his sofa. And all while he was ill! Harry flushed again. "I'm sorry, sir."

"It's quite all right, Potter. I could have ousted you if I had really wanted to." Snape stood and crossed the room to put his hand against Harry's forehead. "Have you been sleeping well, Potter?"

"What?"

"At first I thought I had over-dosed you with the Calming Draught. And then I thought you were just drained emotionally." Snape frowned. "But you slept for quite a while. Have you been having trouble sleeping?"

Harry felt the urge to squirm under Snape's hand. Snape was the one who was sick, he shouldn't be fussing over Harry. Especially after all he had already done that day. But truth be told, Snape didn't look all that ill. Tired, yes, but not ill. "I'm fine, sir."

Snape's frown deepened. "Don't lie to me, Potter," he said taking his hand away. Part of Harry missed the warmth.

"Sometimes," he admitted.

"Does it get worse on Monday nights?"

Now Harry did squirm. "How did you know?"

"Reliving trauma does not generally make for a restful night's sleep." Snape's frown was concerned. "How bad?"

Harry shrugged. "Not terrible. Just sometimes it's hard to fall asleep. And I have… disturbing dreams." At Snape's look Harry shook his head. "Not like last year. Not from Vol- You-Know-Who. Memories, mostly."

Snape nodded. "And I already know better than to believe you when you say something is not terrible," he said dryly. "I'll get you a potion."

"The Dreamless Sleep Draught?" Harry asked trying not to sound hopeful.

Snape's frown was back as he came back with the vial. "No, Potter. We have dreams for a reason, and suppressing them too often can be dangerous. This is just a mild sleep aid." He handed Harry the bottle, giving Harry a long, hard look. "You seemed to sleep fine earlier."

"Because it's safe here," Harry blurted before clapping his hands over his mouth in embarrassment.

"You don't feel safe in your dormitory?"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "Too- too many victims. If someone came after me-" he shrugged again.

"I see. And you don't care what happens to me?"

"No!" Harry looked up at him angrily. How could Snape possibly think that? "Don't put words in my mouth. You could protect yourself."

Snape's expression was unreadable. "And what about you, Harry?"

Harry looked at him in confusion. "I- I'd fight them if I could, I guess. It wouldn't matter if everyone else is safe. You'd make sure everyone else was safe," he said confidently.

"Dammit, Potter!" Snape grabbed him fiercely by the shoulders. "I'd make sure _you_ were safe, do you understand? I'd protect _you_."

Harry shook his head, trying to pull out of Snape's grasp. "No! I don't want you to protect me!"

"Why, Potter? You're sixteen years old, you should be _relying _on adults to protect you-"

"Because I don't want you to die!" And the moment the words left his lips, Harry knew they were true. Despite all the times that Harry had wished Snape dead over the years, Harry now needed him alive and whole.

Something passed through Snape's eyes. His grip on Harry's shoulders lessened, but Harry didn't try to break away. "If you died," Harry whispered, "I don't know that I could keep living."

Something had changed in that moment, Harry could sense it. But it didn't matter, because he trusted Snape. Whatever happened now was going to be okay because Snape was there.

"Harry," Snape whispered in an almost broken voice, lifting a hand from his shoulder to touch his face. _It's okay,_ Harry wanted to say. _I trust you._ But he kept quiet, not wanting to break the moment. Instead, he tried to say it with his eyes, looking up at Severus.

_Severus_. Instead of weird, like it should have been, that felt right.

Gently, Severus tilted his head back as he had when he'd given Harry the Calming Draught. But Harry hadn't worried then, and he certainly wasn't worried now. He looked up at Severus expectantly.

And Severus leaned in to kiss him.

* * *

Author's note: Part of me feels this is going to fast, and the other part of me feels like if I went any slower, Harry would be thirty before anything happened. So I'd appreciate your comments on this. I already have a lovely, angst-y little sequel to this squirreled away in my head, so I don't want _Potions_ to be too long (of course I say that now, but I wouldn't be surprised if I eat my words later on). Reviews=love!


	6. Chapter 6

Soooo.... I had originally meant to give you sweet and fluffy for this chapter, but Severus wasn't having any of that. Seems he thinks that the kiss happened too quickly, too. So I bowed to his will and give you this instead. I think it's all the better for it. It's a bit short, but I really didn't want to combine it with the next chapter.

* * *

_I'm kissing Harry Potter._

_I'm _kissing_ Harry Potter._

_I'm kissing Harry_ bloody _Potter_.

Severus couldn't wrap his mind around it, never mind that he felt the boy's lips- trembling and just a bit hesitant, but responsive- under his own, never mind that he had his hands on the boy's face (_Must keep them up there, or I'll do something rash_), and never mind that he could feel the heat from the boy's body, so damn close…

Severus broke the kiss then, shying away from those dangerous thoughts. For a moment they just looked at each other, and then Harry flushed. _Humiliated?_ Severus thought cynically.

_Did you bargain with him?_

The thought hit Severus with sudden, sickening intensity. Had Harry thought the kiss was some sort of payment? Was he expecting Severus to ask for something more to repay the favor?

Something must have shown on his face because Harry looked up at him. "Did I- did I do something wrong?" he asked, sounding terribly insecure.

Severus closed his eyes. How was he supposed to restrain himself if Harry kept asking things like that with such an innocent look on his face? "You don't have to feel… obliged, Potter."

"Obliged?" Severus opened his eyes at Harry's confused tone. The boy's face looked puzzled, as if he couldn't quite figure out what Severus had meant. He opened his mouth to ask something, but it must have hit him then. He flushed again. "Oh! I didn't think… I mean, that's not why you- is it?"

Severus almost kissed him again when he saw the distress in the boy's eyes. "No," he said firmly. "That's not why I helped you, and that isn't why I kissed you." Harry visibly relaxed. It was clear that the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. "Didn't you think it was odd, Potter?" It was clear to both of them what he was referring to.

"Well I- yeah, now it seems weird, but…" Harry frowned, searching for the words. "I wasn't really thinking about it, I guess. I trust you." He started tugging on his fringe again. "You don't want anything from me-"

"I beg to differ," Severus drawled.

Harry turned beet red, but to his credit, he didn't stop. "I mean, you don't need me to be the Chosen One. You don't care that I'm famous. And you don't expect me to k-kill-" Harry stopped and Severus gave him a moment to regain his composure. "I can just be Harry with you. You make me feel… human. And you're the only one." Harry smiled shyly at him, but there was something hard in his eyes- something that didn't belong in the gaze of a sixteen-year-old. "So if you kiss me, you're the only one I can trust to be kissing _me_ and not… and not…" Harry frowned again, at a loss for words. Finally he just pushed the hair back from his forehead. "And not _this_."

It was a more logical argument than Severus would have ever expected from a Gryffindor, with the possible exception (though he'd never admit it out loud) of Hermione Granger. But there was still something glaringly obvious missing. "Did you want me to?"

"What?"

"Did you want me to kiss you?" Severus gave the boy a searching look. "Trust is all well and good, Potter. Important, yes, but it isn't everything. Did you _want_ me to kiss you?"

Harry blinked as though confused by the question. "I don't know," he admitted. "I guess I must have, right? Or else I wouldn't have… I liked it," he added quickly.

"My ego thanks you," Severus muttered. _Too young, too naïve. _Severus should have _known _better. Should have restrained himself. "There's a difference between enjoying a kiss and wanting someone to kiss you." He stood from his seat on the sofa to pace. Harry hadn't been ready for this. He was just a _boy_ for Merlin's sake! And he probably had less experience in this arena than the majority of his peers. All of Hogwarts knew of Harry's one and only failed attempt at romance. One date that had ended in tears and yelling (although secretly, Severus was pleased that Harry hadn't gotten far with Chang; he had been her rebound from Diggory and it would have only ended with his heart broken).

"Maybe you should kiss me again so I can think about it properly?" Harry suggested.

Severus didn't know if the boy was being cheeky or just plain stupid, but something inside of him snapped at the question. "Potter!" Harry shrank back at his tone. "I am not an especially good man, Potter, but these past few weeks I have been restraining myself. Restraining myself from throwing you down on my desk and fucking you raw." The crude terminology made Harry wince. "You come into my personal quarters, you fall asleep on my couch, you leave yourself completely at my mercy, and you push my restraint to its absolute limit. If you push me further, I cannot be held responsible for my actions."

The color had completely drained from Harry's face. "I… I…" he stammered.

But Severus didn't want to hear it. "It would be best if you left now, Potter," he said evenly. He turned away to face the brown-paper package still resting in the corner. He couldn't watch Harry leave without stopping him. Severus closed his eyes as the portrait swung shut, willing himself not to chase after the boy.

_It's for the best,_ Severus told himself firmly. _I'd ruin him._ Slytherins and Gryffindors did not make good bedfellows. Literally _or_ figuratively. And Harry was too young, too inexperienced. _Too trusting._ He would be better off with someone his own age.

_Like the young Miss Weasley?_

Severus felt vaguely ill at the thought. _What a lovely match. Lily and James take two. I bet they'll have beautiful children._

_Just like Lily and James._

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He debated the merits of getting drunk two nights in a row, but decided against it. He still hadn't brewed more hangover potion.

When he turned around, Severus saw that Harry had left the bottle of sleep aid on his coffee table. If he closed his eyes, he could see the boy writhing in the grips of a nightmare, shut away in that small, dark hole the muggles had consigned him to. He saw how peacefully Harry had slept sprawled out on his couch _because it's safe here._ He could feel the boy's lips against his own.

_If you died, I don't know that I could keep living._

"_Damn_ you, Potter!" Severus shouted into the silence of his empty rooms. He sank into the armchair he'd conjured earlier, unwilling to see if the sofa still held some of Harry's warmth. "I tried to do right, I did. But he keeps _saying_ things like that…"

_No one_ had ever said anything like that to him before. No one had ever trusted him so implicitly, not even Albus. Nobody's well-being had ever depended on his own so completely. Not until young, naïve, vulnerable, exasperating Harry bloody Potter.

Severus leaned his head back, wishing desperately for a drink.

* * *

Harry leaned back against the cold stone wall of the dungeon, staring at the portrait he'd just come out of. The portrait- some sinister-looking man that was no doubt a highly celebrated Slytherin alumnus- glared right back at him as if he'd watched the scene inside Snape's rooms and blamed Harry for it.

Truthfully, Harry didn't know if he was to blame. He wasn't quite sure _what _had happened. He'd gotten kissed and then kicked out. He was very confused. Kissing was supposed to be a good thing, right? Okay, so it had been a bit… awkward with Cho. But she'd been crying over Cedric at the time. Part of Harry thought that shouldn't even count…

But that would make the kiss with Severus his first _real_ kiss.

Harry trembled and told himself that it was from the cold of the dungeons. He raised a hand to his lips, remembering Severus' lips against his, how warm and firm they'd been. Not like Cho, who'd been soft and fluttery. It had been like kissing a baby bird in the rain.

Harry had never really thought of himself as _gay_. He'd liked Cho, had a crush on her all through fourth year until the end of their failed romance. But Cho had been the only one he'd ever considered at all. He'd never even looked at anyone else. All the people trying to kill him had gotten in the way of his teenage hormones it seemed, and Harry hadn't even really considered guys as an option. Until now.

Harry _had_ liked the kiss. He hadn't been lying. But Severus had to go and make things difficult, asking him if he felt _obliged_ (Harry felt vaguely dirty that he'd even considered such a thing) and then asking him if he'd wanted it. And Harry had told him the truth; frankly, he didn't _know_. That wasn't something he'd ever considered. If someone had asked Harry if he'd wanted Professor Snape to kiss him, he'd have escorted them to the Hospital Wing. It just wasn't a possibility. But it had happened, and Harry wasn't all that adverse to the idea of it happening again. And yet, Severus had freaked out at the suggestion.

_If you push me further, I cannot be held responsible for my actions._

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He'd thought they were past threats, although this time the threat was towards his virtue rather than his physical well-being. Harry blushed at the thought.

This was getting him nowhere, and Hermione was probably worried sick at this point. He looked at his watch and his stomach lurched. It was almost dinner time. He _had_ slept for a long time. Harry wasn't particularly hungry at this moment, but he figured he'd better meet everyone in the Great Hall for dinner otherwise Hermione was likely to start a castle-wide search for him.

It seems he was right because as soon as he arrived at the Great Hall, he was very nearly tackled. "_Harry!_" Hermione cried as she through her arms around him. "I was so _worried_. How did everything go with-?"

Harry stopped her before she could say the wrong name. "It's fine, 'Mione. Everything's taken care of." The scene with King felt like it had happened ages ago; had it really only been that afternoon? He looked up at the Head Table and saw King sitting there. She smiled and Harry shuddered.

Hermione felt his reaction, of course, and followed his gaze. "I _can't_ believe Dumbledore didn't throw her out," she said, and her arms tightened defensively around Harry.

_Dumbledore doesn't know_. "Someone needed to take over the rest of Snape's classes. She'll be gone tomorrow, Hermione."

"Good." She finally released him but looked at him searchingly. "I really was worried, you know. I thought you might do something rash, despite what Professor Snape said."

Harry suddenly felt cold. _How did she-?_ Then he remembered. The note, right. "I let the adults handle it for once, don't worry."

She grinned at him. "Look who's finally grown up. Come on, you must be starving." Harry let her lead him to the Gryffindor table despite how completely not starving he was. He picked at his food, eating only when he saw Hermione looking at him.

"You okay, mate?" Ron asked finally. Harry inwardly grimaced; he must look really off if even _Ron_ had noticed. "You usually scarf down your food."

"I'm just… I'm just still kind of upset." Harry shrugged. "That whole thing with King…"

Ron nodded. Hermione must have told him what happened. "I can't believe she did that to you, Harry. That should be illegal."

Harry turned quickly to Hermione, but he could still see the wheels turning in her mind. "_Don't_," he hissed at her. "It's taken care of. If you push it, it's gonna come out that she painted Sirius anyway."

Hermione had the grace to look shame-faced. "Sorry Harry. I just want to protect you."

_You aren't the only one_, Harry thought absently, thinking back to the scene in Snape's rooms. The scene that had ended with a kiss.

"Harry?"

Harry realized that he'd brought his hand back up to his lips. He pretended to wipe his mouth and stood from the table. "I'm not really feeling well. I think I'll go and lie down."

Hermione's mouth was pinched with worry. "Maybe you should go to the Hospital Wing, Harry," she said with concern.

"No, I'm fine. Just need to rest." Hermione opened her mouth again, but Harry preempted her. "If I don't feel better in the morning, I'll go see Madam Pomfrey, alright? Promise."

Hermione didn't seem satisfied, but Ron stepped in. "Stop mothering him, 'Mione. If Harry thinks he just needs rest, then he just needs rest."

"Fine," she huffed. "But I'll take you to the Hospital Wing myself tomorrow morning if you don't seem one hundred percent. Even if I have to drag you by your ear."

Harry grinned; he wouldn't put it past her. "I already promised, Hermione. I'll be fine."

When Harry reached his dormitory, he found a potions vial on his bedside table. It was the sleep aid Severus had given him earlier, which he had completely forgotten about in light of the kiss. He must have sent a house elf up with it. Harry groaned and flopped down on his bed. Part of him felt as though he should be running to Dumbledore. Teachers kissing students couldn't be an acceptable practice, right?

But the larger part of Harry wanted to march back down to the dungeons and demand to know exactly what went wrong. The moment before the kiss had been quiet, magical, almost surreal. And the kiss itself had been rather nice. So what had gone wrong? Maybe Harry was just a bad kisser. But he had a feeling that Severus would have said something if that were the case. He'd understand that Harry hadn't had much experience. Maybe he'd even teach Harry how to do it properly. Harry shivered at the thought; that didn't sound at all unpleasant.

Severus had made a big deal over Harry not wanting to be kissed. He'd spouted some nonsense about not being a good man and how he'd been _restraining_ himself from doing things that still made Harry blush to think about.

And then realization hit Harry suddenly. Severus thought he was taking advantage.

He had to admit, that's what it would look like to any outsider. Severus had been seeing Harry at his most vulnerable once a week and had apparently been entertaining certain… fantasies (Harry blushed furiously). Harry had come to him this afternoon, too upset for words, and Severus had kissed him. The Potions Master thought he was taking advantage of Harry's vulnerability.

The thought made Harry hot with anger. He wasn't some…some….damsel in distress or something. The only reason he went through with those stupid Monday night sessions was because Snape insisted. He'd been doing just fine before they started. And just because he laid his past bare to Snape once a week did _not_ mean he couldn't take care of himself. He certainly didn't need Snape to take care of him.

_Still,_ Harry thought, _it would be nice._

Sighing, Harry buried his head in his pillow. His anger was gone as quickly as it came. As terribly uncomfortable as they were, Harry would _miss _those Monday night sessions. To be able to sit in a room for a few hours and not be expected to pull miracles out of his ass… he simply couldn't put a price on that. And he had to admit, he could think about the cupboard without the rising panic he used to feel. He could sleep with the curtains around his bed closed without feeling claustrophobic. They had _helped_, just like Severus had said they would. And they were over just because of a stupid kiss.

Turning his head to look out the window, the potions vial caught his eye. Harry frowned. He'd assumed the Monday night sessions were over because of the way things had ended in Severus' rooms, but… Severus hadn't _said_ anything about them. He could have sent a note with the potion to cancel them, but he _hadn't_. And Harry would go back to being a deplorable potions-maker without the lab period; wasn't Severus obliged to help Harry learn?

Harry grinned to himself. It was entirely likely that Severus had simply forgotten, and if that was the case, Harry wouldn't do anything to remind him. Because next Monday, Harry planned to show up at his office at 5 o'clock like always. One way or another, they were going to settle this, and Harry would prove to Severus that he wasn't some delicate flower that needed to be handled gently. No more eggshells, no more kid gloves.

And if it involved more kissing, well… that was the way the cookie crumbled, wasn't it?


	7. Chapter 7

This chapter was a stone bitch to write. I dunno why. I'm still not sure I'm pleased with the end result, but I can't spend any more time on it. Sorry for the delay in updates, too. Not only did this chapter give me problems, but I had a rough couple of weeks. Much love and thanks to all my reviewers!

* * *

"Potter." Severus looked at the boy standing in front of his desk. Harry's arms were crossed in front of his chest and there was a stubborn twist to his mouth. _Gryffindors_. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I'm here for my lab period, sir."

Severus could feel a migraine coming on. "I suppose this is my own fault for crediting you with far too much intelligence," he said, deliberately cruel. "I thought even _you_ would have the necessary intellect to realize that it is no longer wise to continue these sessions. A gross overestimation on my part."

But Harry didn't even flinch. "I think we can both agree that I need these lab periods, _professor_." Severus didn't miss the emphasis Harry placed on that word. "Unless you want me blowing myself up every Potions class."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've established, Potter, that my self-control isn't what it should be around you."

"So what? You're afraid that you'll- you'll," the boy colored slightly, "rape me or something?"

Severus stared aghast at Harry. Did the boy honestly think him capable of something like that? The very thought made him ill.

Harry nodded as though Severus answered him. "I didn't think so," he said confidently. "You'd stop if I said no." The boy took a step towards where Severus was sitting behind his desk. "So what's the problem?"

The Potions Master was once again struck by the amount of trust Harry had placed in him. Since when had he become so trustworthy? "Surely even you can appreciate the impropriety of the situation, Potter. I am your professor, you are my student. There is a line between us that should never be crossed- a line that I _did_ cross. And given the temptation, it is a line I will likely cross again."

"And what if I said I don't care?"

Severus looked up at Harry sharply. The boy had been sent from hell just to torment him, he was suddenly sure of it. He'd begun to look less and less like James to Severus' eyes. He'd never be conventionally handsome like Diggory had been or beautiful like Draco Malfoy, but you had to be blind not to appreciate the decent muscle tone the boy had, with not an ounce of excess fat on him, or his golden tan, or the way that infernally messy black hair set off those beautiful green eyes. No, the rest of the world might not see Harry as beautiful, but Severus did. As beautiful as sin.

Severus shook those thoughts off- they were hardly conducive to the situation. "That's neither here nor there, Potter," he replied dryly. "You have the least to lose if this… debacle were to be discovered."

"_Debacle-_"

"You'd be seen as the victim," Severus cut off the boy's righteous indignation before it could truly start. "Poor Harry Potter, having to deal with the nasty Potions Master pawing at him."

"You didn't _paw_-"

"And you really think that would matter?" Severus raised a single eyebrow. "I am your _professor_. I have a certain amount of power over you. And such… actions are seen as an abuse of that power. With good reason."

Harry huffed indignantly. "You could never make me do anything that I didn't want to."

Severus had to struggle to suppress a smile. The boy had never spoken a truer word. "Be that as it may, Potter," he said solemnly without betraying his amusement, "it changes nothing. Rules are put in place for a reason, as I'm sure Miss Granger has told you many times. But of course, you never did think the rules applied to you. Well, we don't all have the luxury of your celebrity."

The boy's face darkened. Severus' words were more of the kind he would have spoken to Harry last year. He'd meant them to hurt then, and he meant them to hurt now. But Harry only stepped closer to him. "You can't tell me that you've never broken a rule, Severus."

The sound of his name on Harry's lips sent a thrill down Severus' spine. He knew that he should berate the boy for it- take away points or give him a detention (with Filch, of course)- but instead he pretended he hadn't heard. And he fooled neither of them. "This is more akin to breaking a law, Potter."

"Harry." The boy was very close now. "Don't- not when it's just us. Call me Harry." His fingers ghosted along the edge of Severus' jaw. "I'm just Harry."

Almost of their own volition, Severus' hands reached up to him. "I'm not good for you," he murmured, quickly losing the will to resist, not with Harry so close, so obviously willing. "I'll hurt you. I'll ruin you."

"I don't care." And Harry bent his head to kiss him.

Severus knew he was lost at that moment. A better man than him could resist this temptation. A better man could have pushed Harry away and put an end to this. A better man would have gone to Albus and had a new professor take his place. But Severus had resisted this particular sin for what felt like a very long time and, well, he never had been an especially good man.

Instead of all the things he knew he should do, Severus lifted his wand and cast locking and silencing charms on his office. If he was going to sin, he'd do it away from prying eyes.

* * *

Harry felt giddy with success. Severus hadn't pushed him away. Severus was kissing him back. He'd won- Gryffindor daring had won over Slytherin cunning. Harry smiled against Severus' lips and decided to keep that particular observation to himself.

And then Severus was kissing Harry with such a fierceness that it took his breath away. For a moment he felt himself floundering, unsure of what to do. He'd certainly never been kissed like that before; what if he did it wrong and Severus threw him out again?

As if sensing his thoughts, Severus ran soothing hands over Harry's shoulders. The young wizard relaxed immediately; it didn't matter. Severus had no excuses this time to throw him out. He certainly couldn't claim that Harry hadn't wanted it.

After what felt like both hours and a few scant moments, they broke the kiss. Harry had somehow ended up sitting in Severus' lap, and the Potions Master was running his hand up and down his back. It felt nice, but Harry couldn't help but tense, remembering the moments after their _last_ kiss had ended.

Severus probably felt the tension in Harry's back. His hand paused. "What's wrong?"

"You aren't going to throw me out again, are you?" Harry asked plaintively, aware that he sounded like a small child, but not really caring.

Something almost like pain flashed across Severus' face. "If you had any sense at all, you wouldn't _want _to be here."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't say it," he said suddenly. Severus looked at him in surprise. "Don't say that you're not a good man. You keep claiming that, but I don't see it. If you're such a bad man, why did you save my life? Why did you turn spy for Dumbledore? Why did you stop King from blackmailing me? If you're not a good man," Harry made sure he kept full eye contact with Severus, "why do you feel so damn guilty right now?"

"A good man wouldn't have done anything to feel guilty about," Severus muttered, but Harry could tell that the Potions Master was processing his argument.

Harry snorted. "That's bull and you know it. Everybody makes mistakes. Everyone breaks the rules. And sometimes," Harry grinned, "it's worth it."

Severus' hand started rubbing up and down Harry's back again and Harry leaned into the caress with a sigh, confident that he'd won for now. But Severus' voice drifted towards him, so soft that Harry had to strain to hear it. "How? How could you possibly want me?" Harry was surprised to hear the insecurity in Severus' voice. "You're young and desirable and certainly have no need for me. So why me, Harry?'

Harry frowned at Severus' wording. _Have no need for me_. "'Course I need you," he said, confused. "I need you around to keep me sane and remind me that I'm more than just a title. And I need you to keep me from blowing up the castle with my potions," he added, trying to lighten the mood.

But Severus didn't smile. "That isn't what I meant."

"Then I don't know what you mean," Harry snapped impatiently. He wasn't about to let Severus get all moody and cryptic on him. "As for why you- I already _told_ you. You're safe, I trust you, and I found out just how much I liked kissing you, okay? That's why I chose _you_."

"Harry." Severus took hold of his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "I want you to _think_ about this. I am old enough to be your father. I can be vicious. I _will_ hurt you, even when I don't mean to- no matter how much you trust me," he added dryly. "Your father, godfather and I loathed each other with a passion. _Think_ about it."

Severus' words had the feeling of a test to them. Harry was silent a moment as he chose his words with care; he had no intention of failing this test. "I have thought about it," he said finally. "All week- and I know that's not very long in the scheme of things, but I don't think I'd come to a different conclusion, even if I took years. And I don't want to take years.

"I know Sirius and my dad wouldn't understand. And yeah, it hurts to think of their disapproval, but as much as I hate to admit it, they're gone. And I'd thought that without them, and with Dumbledore and Remus away doing work for the Order, that I would be without people who cared about _me_, as a person rather than the Boy Who Lived. You proved me wrong. You _cared_. You made me sit down and talk about the Dursleys and the cupboard. You made me believe that what they did to me was _wrong_."

"It _was_," Severus said forcefully.

"I know that now," Harry agreed. "Because of you. Don't you understand? You're the only one I could tell that to. You didn't baby me through it. You made me talk, told me that I didn't deserve it, and offered me a valid alternative. You're strong enough for me to lean on, but you won't let me lean on you all the time. And you see me as Harry, not as the Chosen One, and still manage to, err…" Harry faltered slightly, feeling his face heat up, "want me. And I've had all week to think about that and I've decided that I quite like the idea." Harry knew he was probably beet red at this point, but pushed his embarrassment aside. "I like your hands, and your voice is sexy, and you've got nice eyes, and your nose is perfect for your face, and I like the idea of us being together," he said in a rush. "And since both of us are at risk of being killed by a mad Dark wizard any day now, I don't think we should be wasting any more time."

Severus just looked at him silently for a few moments, his black gaze unfathomable. Harry tried not to squirm uncomfortably under that gaze; he'd just spilled his guts, wasn't Severus going to _say_ anything? No, was apparently the answer, because Severus simply leaned in for a slow, languid kiss. "I don't think," the man said after breaking the kiss, leaning his forehead against Harry's, "that I have the strength to fight this anymore. Especially since I don't particularly want to." But his expression was still troubled. "I want you to be _sure_."

"I am," Harry said firmly. "I'm sure."

Severus nodded. "All right. Stand up."

For the first time, Harry felt a moment's trepidation. What came now? Harry's sex ed. had been limited to what he'd learned from the other boys in the dorm, and that had included very little on the topic of male-male relations. Besides, Severus would give Harry some time, understanding that it would be his first time, wouldn't he? Or had he taken Harry's words about not wasting time truly to heart?

Severus was rifling through the papers on his desk, and Harry finally found his voice. "Umm, Severus? What are you doing?"

"Looking for this week's lesson plans," the man replied without looking up. "You did come here for your lab session did you not?"

Harry was surprised when he felt his knees go weak with relief. Severus finally looked up at him, and Harry could see the understanding in those black eyes. "I know you are not yet ready for anything more, Harry. Trust me when I say, I'm having enough crisis of conscience kissing you. I will not push you to do more than you feel ready for." He pulled a piece of parchment out of the file. "Now, sit. The potions planned for this week are especially complicated, and we've wasted enough time as it is." If Harry didn't know better, he'd say there was a mischievous look in Severus' eyes. "And since you seem to find my voice sexy, you'll most certainly enjoy this."

Harry laughed, feeling lighter than he had in a very long time.

* * *

Harry quickly learned that how Severus kissed depended on his mood. When he was tired, he kissed slowly, languidly; when he was feeling guilty, his kisses were gentle and tender, with no tongue; when he'd had a bad day, he kissed fiercely, his tongue plundering Harry's mouth without remorse; and when he in a good mood, his kisses were deep, hungry ones that left Harry's entire body throbbing.

Severus insisted that no more kissing take place in his office. Anyone could find them there and it would be suspicious if someone came to visit him and found the door locked, so Harry had been sneaking down to Severus' private rooms in the evenings. It wasn't every night and never for more than an hour or two, since he didn't want his roommates to become suspicious. But he didn't just go down to Severus' chambers just to kiss (or do anything else for that matter). Sometimes they'd talk, or sit in front of the fire drinking tea, or Severus would help Harry with his homework. Occasionally, when Severus was in a good mood, he'd teach Harry more Potions. While Harry was never thrilled with that, Severus' good moods were rare enough that he bore it without complaint. Besides, Harry had discovered he liked watching Severus brew. The man went about it with such care and passion, his hands moving in such a sensual manner that it made Harry shiver. It was a thing of beauty to see.

But Severus' good moods were becoming fewer and fewer lately. He was tense and tired all the time. His temper had been especially short. He snapped at all his students, even the Slytherins, and had caused more than a few first years to dissolve into tears. He'd even made a few cutting remarks to Harry when they'd been alone. Harry had struggled to keep his own temper, but like the extra Potions lessons, he bore it without complaint. Because he knew that this had something to do with Voldemort. Being a spy among the Death Eaters couldn't be easy at the best of times, but if Voldemort was planning something and Severus was trying to thwart that plan without revealing himself… well, Harry could understand if his fuse was a little short these days.

Harry wished he could do something to help. He almost wished that Voldemort hadn't closed off the connection between their minds. As uncomfortable and unsettling as it had been, Harry wouldn't mind it if he could use it to help Severus. He felt useless and frustrated; he knew there was a problem, but he didn't know what it was. He couldn't help if he didn't know what they needed help with. But Harry fought his curiosity and held his tongue. Severus would never tell him, and asking would just spark a fight. Harry didn't want to fight.

That night in Severus' rooms was a quiet one. Harry could see from the moment he entered that Severus was exhausted, but he hadn't turned Harry away. Harry was sitting on the floor in front of Severus, his head on Severus' knee. Severus was running his fingers through the young wizard's hair, and Harry found it incredibly soothing. They didn't talk; Harry read a book for class and Severus ran his fingers through Harry's hair. It wasn't long before Harry found himself getting drowsy, unable to focus on the words on the page. He gave up finally, closing his eyes and snuggling closer to Severus' leg.

Severus made an amused sound. "Comfortable?"

Harry opened his eyes and tilted his head back to look at him upside down. A corner of Severus' mouth was quirked up into an almost-smile. "You're in a better mood today," he said, resuming his former position. "Something good happen?"

"Yes." One of Severus' fingers traced the shell of Harry's ear. "I had an attractive young man nestled against my leg."

Harry leaned into the touch. "I hope you told him you were taken. I'd hate to get jealous." He delighted in Severus' chuckle, although he noted how weak and tired it was. "Although I can't really blame him; it _is_ a nice leg," he added appreciatively. He ran his hand up Severus' calf, curling it around his knee.

Severus' fingers paused in Harry's hair. Harry didn't have to look up to see Severus' expression. It would be the same expression he had every time Harry complimented him- the same mixture of disbelief and bemusement. "I'll have to do this more often if it puts you in a good mood," Harry said as Severus' fingers resumed their movement. "You've been so tense lately."

"I have a difficult job." They both knew he wasn't talking about teaching.

"I know." Harry gripped Severus' leg a little tighter. "I wish you didn't."

"As do I."

"I wish I could help you," Harry said without thinking.

He knew immediately that that had been the wrong thing to say. Severus' fingers stopped again, and Harry could feel the tension in Severus' leg. "You want to ease my tension, you stay _out_ of danger," Severus said sharply. "Don't you dare go looking for it like you always do."

"I will-"

"You will stay in the castle where it's _safe_. You will _not_ try to find out what the Dark Lord is planning-"

"He's after me, isn't he?" Harry interrupted quietly. He stood and turned to face Severus. "That's what's got you all tied up in knots. That bastard's after me again and he's trying to use you to get to me."

Severus was quiet a long time before replying. "Yes. So you can understand how it might ease my mind if you promise not to go out looking for trouble."

"And you weren't going to tell me?" Harry asked, getting angry. "It's _my_ life at stake and you weren't going to tell me?"

"There was no need. Telling you would only upset you." Severus crossed his arms over his chest. "As you have just evinced."

"Oh, so poor little Harry can't handle knowing that the big bad Voldemort is after him, is that it?"

"That and you would just make the Dark Lord's job easier by chasing after him," Severus added with a sneer.

"_Dammit_, Severus!" Harry threw down the book he still had in his hands. "I don't need you to fucking protect me! Voldemort's gonna try to kill me, big news! He's been trying that since I was a year old! I don't need you to protect me from that!"

"Didn't you ever think, you idiot boy, that I had my own reasons to try to keep you safe? That I might find it a little hard to crow with joy along with the other Death Eaters at your demise?"

Those words hit Harry like a bucket of cold water. Severus stood finally from the couch. "I need you safe, Harry. I don't protect you because you need it, I protect you because _I_ need it." He put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Do you know how difficult it is for me to listen to him devise ways of getting to you? Hurting you?" Severus' grip was hard. "And the fact that you'll be here when I get back is the only thing that enables me to get through it. When I get here, the last thing I want to do is relive those conversations, _especially_ with you."

Harry flushed. "I'm sorry."

Severus' grip on his shoulders relaxed. "No more Hogsmeade weekends, please, Harry. You're too vulnerable there."

At Harry's nod, Severus pulled him close and kissed him gently. _A guilty kiss_, Harry thought to himself. "You should go," Severus said finally. "It's late."

Harry turned to leave, but hesitated. "Severus? Next weekend- the Hogsmeade weekend- can I come here?"

Severus looked surprised, but he smiled faintly and gave Harry another guilty kiss. "You may come here."

* * *

"He's determined to get to Potter, Albus."

Dumbledore sighed. "Tom was always nothing if not tenacious. But he's been trying to get to Harry for a long time, Severus. What has you so worried?"

Severus paced the length of Dumbledore's office. "It's become his top priority. But he doesn't want Potter killed anymore. He's quite adamant about capturing Potter alive. And I don't know what that could mean."

Dumbledore's eyes weren't twinkling anymore. "That is a worrisome change."

"Potter's already agreed not to go on anymore Hogsmeade visits."

"That's probably best. Voldemort can't reach Harry at school. However did you get him to agree to that, Severus?"

Severus hesitated. "For once, the boy saw reason."

"You told him the truth." Dumbledore nodded. "That is likely the only way we can get Harry to be careful." He stood from behind his desk. "I'll add some extra wards to the grounds. So long as he stays where he's supposed to- never a guarantee with Harry- he should be fine until his seventeenth birthday."

Severus blinked in confusion. "You intend to keep Potter here until his seventeenth birthday?"

"Goodness no, my boy. Voldemort cannot break through the protections on Harry's relatives' house until the boy comes of age."

Severus stopped pacing abruptly. "Albus, you can't send him back to that house!"

"It's the only place that Harry is completely safe from Voldemort. Surely you consider that important, Severus."

"Yes, but-" Severus paused; he couldn't betray Harry's confidences, not even to Albus. He'd promised. "What about Grimmauld Place? The Dark Lord can't breach those defenses either."

"He could, eventually. Nothing is foolproof, except the protection that Lily gave him, and that is over the Dursleys' house. Now, I know you two don't get along, Severus, but surely you agree that we should do everything we can to keep Harry safe."

Severus knew that there was no way he could win this argument- even if he could come clean about the abuse, he couldn't be sure that Albus didn't already know about it. "I do want to keep him safe, Albus-"

"Then it's settled," Dumbledore said with finality. "Harry will go back to stay with the Dursleys until his seventeenth birthday."

Severus felt slightly ill. He'd sworn that Harry wouldn't have to go back there. He hadn't counted on the Headmaster vetoing his plan. How in Merlin's name was he supposed to break the news to Harry?


	8. Chapter 8

I was just too excited about this chapter to wait to write it. It's important, and was a hell of a lot easier than the last one. I don't want to give anything away, so I'll put a longer author's note at the end. Once again, Thank you to all my reviewers. If I didn't have you, there would be no story.

* * *

"You're not going to Hogsmeade, Harry?" Ginny stood in front of the squashy armchair Harry sat in. "Dean says you're staying in to _study_." It was clear from the way she said it that she didn't believe it. He didn't blame her; even Hermione was going to Hogsmeade.

He'd lied to his classmates when they asked him why he wasn't going into town with them. The public had accepted the fact that Voldemort was at large, but Harry hadn't wanted to worry his friends with the fact that there may be Death Eaters lurking in the Hogsmeade streets lying in wait for Harry. It would cause unnecessary panic; the Death Eaters daren't try anything so close to Hogwarts if they couldn't get to Harry. So he'd told his friends that mean old Professor Snape had assigned him a particularly nasty essay for his lab period, due on Monday. It was a lie Severus almost gleefully agreed to back him on, even going so far as to give him the essay prompt. Harry wouldn't be surprised if he was expected to actually do it, now. That man could be a real sadist sometimes.

But Ginny wasn't likely to panic. She'd been a member of the DA, and was privy to information about the Order. Besides, she wasn't buying his homework excuse, and she'd likely get the truth from Ron or Hermione anyway. Harry checked to make sure that no one was listening, before leaning towards her. "It's just safer for me not to go, okay?" he told her, keeping his voice so soft that she had to lean forward to hear it.

Ginny's eyes widened slightly as she processed what Harry was saying. "You-Know-Who…?" she breathed.

Harry nodded. "It's nothing new, Gin, don't worry about me." He forced a smile. "I just don't want to chance people getting caught in the crossfire."

The look of shock on Ginny's face changed into one of determination and she flopped down onto one of the armchairs next to him. "I'll stay and keep you company, then," she said with forced cheer. "We'll have the castle to ourselves. It'll be fun." She wagged her eyebrows suggestively.

Harry laughed. "I appreciate it, Ginny, but I actually _do_ have Potions work to do." Ron and Hermione had both made similar offers to him, but the very real essay prompt had deterred them. He really _did_ appreciate their offers, but he already had someone to keep him company this weekend. "Aren't you supposed to be meeting Dean, anyway?"

"I'm good at Potions, maybe I can help you." She snatched the prompt out of his hand. "Besides," she said, studying the parchment, "I don't think Dean and I will be together much longer, you know? Maybe if he thinks I'm standing him up to see you, it'll hurry things along a bit."

"Oh no," Harry said, snatching the parchment back. "I've gotta sleep in the same room as Dean. I'm not letting him think you're two-timing him with me."

"Aww, come on, Harry." Ginny fluttered her eyelashes. "Be a dear."

"I've got no desire to get hexed in my sleep, thank you."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him and Harry laughed again. "Go have fun," he said, waving her off. "I'll be fine."

She gave his hand a squeeze. "Try not to have too much fun without me."

"Potions, Gin." He gestured to the parchment. "I don't think that'll be much of a problem."

Harry had decided to wait until the castle emptied before going down to Severus' chambers, and as such had to deal with the sympathetic glances from his classmates. Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He should have waited it out in the library rather than his common room, but none of the students at the library would likely be going to Hogsmeade either, and it would be impossible to gauge when the castle was empty enough to go.

Finally the common room cleared of all but first and second years, most of whom gave him a wide berth anyway. Harry deemed it safe to head down to the dungeons. Halfway there, though, Harry silently cursed the fact that he hadn't brought the Marauder's Map. Dumbledore waylaid him in the corridor.

"Harry, my boy," the old wizard greeted him. "I'm so sorry that you cannot go into town with your peers, Harry."

"Yeah, well," Harry shrugged noncommittally. "It's better for everyone, isn't it?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm just pleased to see you understand that." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come up to my office for tea, won't you?"

"Well, professor, I had a question for Professor Snape-"

"Perfect!" the old man beamed. "Severus is coming as well." Using the hand on the boy's shoulder, Dumbledore steered him in the direction of his office. Harry had to bite back a sigh. Him and Severus having tea with the Headmaster? That would be awkward. Harry hurried to formulate a question to ask Severus once they got there. Dumbledore would be suspicious if he didn't have one, since he'd already used that as an excuse. His mind was so preoccupied with that that he almost missed what Dumbledore said next. "…to the Three Broomsticks, but Anastasia agreed to come- I was surprised to find she was still in Hogsmeade, I thought she'd left weeks ago-"

"King?" Harry interrupted, feeling his insides freeze. "Anastasia King?"

"Yes, apparently she's looking to open an gallery in Hogsmeade, wouldn't that be lovely? So we'll have a nice little party."

Part of Harry figured that the Headmaster must really be as daft as everyone said; did he honestly think that a student could ever be comfortable in a "nice little party" with his professors? And add King to the mix… Harry thought he might be sick.

"Severus and Anastasia used to be an item, a long time ago," Dumbledore continued, oblivious. "It was my understanding that she came back to make amends. And they always seemed so perfect together. It would be nice for Severus to have someone like that in his life again, don't you think Harry?"

_He _has_ someone_, Harry wanted to say, but instead he just said, "Whatever you say, professor."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Forgive an old man trying to play matchmaker, Harry. I'm sure you have no interest in this."

_Oh, trust me, _Harry thought to himself, _I have an interest in Severus' love life._ But he remained silent until they arrived at Dumbledore's office. There were three people there already: Severus and King, as Harry had expected; and rather unexpectedly, Professor Trelawney, who seemed to be wrapped in even more scarves and beads than Harry remembered. Clearly the entrance of Harry and Dumbledore had interrupted something, because the tension in the air was palpable, and Severus had turned the full force of his glare on King, who looked rather unconcerned. Trelawney was looking back and forth between the two of them, like she was watching a tennis match.

"Good!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Everyone's here. Isn't this nice?"

Harry could only stare at the man in disbelief, convinced that Dumbledore was completely off his rocker. Trelawney seemed grateful for the interruption and all but pounced on Harry. "Mr. Potter!" she said in her breathy, mystical voice. "I was so saddened not to see you in my NEWTs class this year. I knew, of course that you wouldn't be, but I had hoped- one would think that knowledge of the future would be ever more important in your life at this moment. Oh, Mr. Potter, the things I have seen…!" She trailed off and, to Harry's horror, her big, bug-like eyes started to fill with tears.

"Let's keep the portents of doom to a minimum, shall we, Sybill?" Severus drawled. "Not that it should matter much anyway; Potter's already convinced of his own invincibility."

Harry stopped himself from shooting the Potions Master a grateful look and turned it into an indignant one instead. _Yes, let's pretend Severus _didn't_ just do that for you and you're quite angry that he did._ Harry bit back a sigh; this was going to be a very long tea.

"Now, don't be rude, Sev," King said with a false giggle that reminded Harry forcibly of Umbridge and set his teeth on edge. "I find Professor Trelawney's predictions quite fascinating, don't you Harry?"

"Err, yeah. Fascinating," Harry replied lamely, wishing for nothing more than a Time-Turner so he could go back and keep both himself and Severus from this terrible tea. They _should_ have been comfortable all curled up in Severus' chambers, instead of in this stiffly tense room.

Trelawney didn't seem to notice and all but beamed at Harry. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling merrily. "Wonderful, wonderful," he clapped. "Milk and sugar, Harry?"

"Err-"

Dumbledore added both without waiting for Harry's answer. Harry didn't say much as he sipped at his tea. Neither did Severus. The minutes seemed to crawl by as Harry tried _not_ to stare at the man's long, crossed legs, or his thin lips. And the entire time, Harry could feel King's gaze burning into him.

It was only when Dumbledore became engrossed in a conversation with Trelawney that King made her move. She leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear. Harry saw Severus tense at the movement, watching them closely. "Tell me, Harry," King whispered conspiratorially, "did you give your knight in shining armor a reward?"

"What-?"

"Good, old Sev, the stalwart protector." King gave a light laugh. "You don't think he helped you because he's just a good guy, did you? Oh, Harry." She made to put a sympathetic hand on his arm, but Harry flinched away. "I've known Severus a very long time, and trust me when I say that he doesn't do anyone favors unless he knows he can get something in return."

_You don't have to feel… obliged, Potter_. Harry had to swallow back the bile rising in his throat. "You're wrong," he said, trying to keep his voice even.

"Oh Harry," King repeated shaking her head. "Did he tell you how he got me to back off? He told me that it would help him get into your pants, and since it's been so long for him, I figured I'd do an old friend a favor."

"You're _lying_."

"Let me guess, he acted all guilty? He was sorry for coming on to you? He said it could never be and let you make the next move? Even after all these years, Severus still hasn't changed his MO." King settled back in her chair and sipped her tea contemplatively.

Harry felt the urge to vomit. He jumped to his feet, desperate to get out of there.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked, startled.

"Sorry, just remembered- paper due- I have to go." And Harry all but ran out of Dumbledore's office, barely making it to the nearest bathroom in time.

* * *

Severus gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to do one of two things- run after Harry or throttle Anastasia for whatever poison she'd fed him this time. But he knew he could do neither, not with Dumbledore present and not with Anastasia watching him with that damned smile. His hands were tied, and that made him furious.

Harry's sudden departure left the room in stunned silence, until Trelawney spoke up. "Poor boy," she said in a tremulous voice. "Cracking under the pressure. I foresaw it happening, of course…" And as she described Harry's slow descent into madness, Albus caught Severus' eye. The Headmaster's blue eyes flicked over to Anastasia before looking back to Severus. Severus nodded almost imperceptibly.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, interrupting Trelawney's rather graphic telling of Harry's death. "It is getting late, no wonder Harry had to run out of here. Shall I escort you out, Sybill?" He put a hand on Trelawney's shoulder, before turning to say, "If you'd stay a moment more, Anastasia, I'd like a word."

When they were gone, Anastasia grinned at Severus as though she had just played a harmless prank. "Your boy-toy's awful sensitive, Sev."

"You are sick, Anastasia. Might I suggest you go to St. Mungo's for evaluation?"

"Deny all you want, Sev, but Harry's reaction was absolutely perfect. I couldn't have scripted it better." She winked. "I know what's going on," she sing-songed.

Before Severus could answer- or use the Cruciatus Curse on her, the jury was still out on that- Dumbledore returned. Severus could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Dumbledore actually look this angry. Anastasia's smile faltered. "Albus, I didn't do anything to him," she said quickly. "Something I said must have upset him-"

"What did you say?" Dumbledore asked, his voice dangerously calm.

Anastasia glanced at Severus, who suddenly knew exactly what she'd said and the urge to _Crucio_ her intensified. Severus straightened his back as Anastasia drew breath to answer, prepared for Dumbledore's anger to be turned on him. "I told him that I had painted Sirius Black," she said, and Severus hid his surprise, "and that the painting was in my show, in London."

Anastasia wasn't exactly lying, but she'd said all this to Harry _weeks_ ago. If Severus wasn't such a good spy, he would have given himself away. But Dumbledore seemed to accept what Anastasia was saying, for the most part. "I'm sure that's not all you said to him, Anastasia, but I'll thank you to stay away from him from now on. If I find you've gone near Harry- for _any_ reason- you'll have me to deal with."

"I'm not your student anymore, Albus," Anastasia said, in Severus' opinion, rather recklessly.

"No. But Harry is, and I take the protection of my students rather seriously." Dumbledore turned away as if he couldn't bare to look at her any longer. "Severus, please escort Ms. King out of the school."

"With pleasure," Severus said coolly, taking Anastasia by the elbow forcefully. He led her out, walking briskly, wanting to be free of her as soon as possible. He couldn't believe that this was the same woman he'd been in love with all those years ago. _But then_, the little voice said, _were you so different back then?_ No, no he hadn't been. He'd have been quite willing to blackmail and terrorize to get his way. But people were supposed to grow up in twenty years.

"In a rush to go comfort your boy-toy, Sev?" Anastasia taunted, even as she had to struggle to keep up with Severus' long strides. When that failed to get a rise out of him, she tried a different tack. "How much is my silence worth to you?"

Severus snorted his amusement. "Silence on what, Anastasia? This presumed, torrid affair that you've dreamed up? The only proof you have of that is the overly-emotional reaction of a teenage boy well known for his violent mood swings. You'll find that most of the students in this school will have a similar reaction if you suggested they were sleeping with me. You'll be laughed out of Britain for even suggesting it. Your silence is worth less than a knut to me."

"It'll still cause problems for you if I spread it, Sev. You'll be watched closely by the school governors, you'd be suspended, you could even lose your job. Wouldn't that be _terrible_, Sev?"

Severus shook his head. "This is a rather poor attempt to get a portrait, Anastasia. You must be desperate. And believe you me, you'd be doing me a favor if you cost me my job. I only stay as a favor to Albus, and I'd be much more content brewing potions on a commissioned basis." They had arrived at the entrance hall, and Severus pushed her none-too-gently out the door. "Good day, Ms. King. I do hope I never have the dubious pleasure of your company again." With that he turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him.

The next order of business was to find Harry. Severus could only hope that the boy hadn't gone to the Gryffindor Tower, because Severus certainly had no business there. He could only hope against hope that Harry had gone his quarters as they had planned for today. If not, Severus fully planned to prowl the castle for the rest of the day in order to find him. But he needn't have worried; when he arrived at his chambers, he found Harry curled up on his couch in front of the fire.

"Harry," he started, but was interrupted when the boy launched himself at Severus, pressing up against him so tightly that it almost seemed that Harry wanted to seep in through Severus' pores.

"I know it's not true," Harry murmured, fisting Severus' robe. "I know it. But she said things- it was almost like she was there-"

"Hush," Severus said, stroking the boy's hair. "Tell me what she said."

As Harry explained, Severus found himself wishing more and more that he _had_ subjected Anastasia to the Cruciatus Curse. She'd deliberately meant to hurt in order to gauge Harry's reaction. Severus could guess that the only reason Harry had come to him instead of believing Anastasia's words was the fact that they _hadn't_ slept together and Severus hadn't been pushing him to, because what Anastasia had said to him had been eerily accurate.

"How?" Harry finished, looking up at him. "How did she know? _Do_ you make it a habit of seducing people like that?"

"I should be insulted by that, but under the circumstances, I'll let it pass." Severus glanced briefly at the brown paper package by the fireplace. "Anastasia knows me well enough, Harry, to guess how I would react in certain situations." He hesitated slightly, before making up his mind. "I have something to show you."

He stepped out of Harry's grasp and stepped towards the painting. Quickly, before he could change his mind, he ripped the paper off. For the first time in nearly twenty years, Severus found himself looking at the portrait that had caused him so much pain.

Harry stepped up quietly behind him. "Is that…?"

"_The Art of Potions_," Severus said with a sneer. "Anastasia's first and most famous portrait. _My _portrait." He scanned the painting, looking for something he remembered. "Here," he pointed. "Look, I have a habit of doing things and feeling guilty about them later. I'm sure Anastasia remembered that."

He stared moodily at the painting for a while longer. Oh yes, he remembered it. The face that was all nose. The skin so yellow it looked jaundiced. The ratty, greasy hair. The almost skeletal body. But worse than that were the magic portions of the painting. Severus could see his own hatefulness, his own cruelty. He could see his jealousy and malice, the mistakes he refused to acknowledge, his stubbornness and prejudice. And if one looked hard enough, they could even see faint outlines of the Dark Mark.

Severus sat on the couch and covered his eyes, not wanting to look at it further.

"Severus?" The Potions Master lowered his hands. Harry stood in front of him, looking worried. "You didn't have to show me that, you know. I believed you."

"It is for the best. Perhaps now you'll believe me when I say I'm not a good man."

Harry snorted. "If this is your attempt to get rid of me, it isn't working." As if to prove his point, Harry sat directly on his lap. "_That_," Harry gestured to the painting, "that isn't you."

"Harry-"

"Fine, maybe it's a part of you," Harry conceded. "But it's not _all_ of you. I don't even think it's _most_ of you. But it can't be _you_ unless it's _all_ of you." Harry frowned. "Did that make sense?"

"Surprisingly, yes."

Harry rested his head against Severus' shoulder. "It doesn't look like you. I might never have even guessed it was you, if I saw this in some gallery somewhere. And I certainly don't see _that_ when I look at you."

Severus' arms came up to wrap around Harry. "What do you see?" he couldn't help but ask.

"I see a good man, a brave man. A flawed man, maybe, but someone who's trying to correct his mistakes. I see an intelligent man who can be kind and caring when he wants to be, even if he has a little too much fun taking points and assigning detentions." Harry grinned. "I also see a man who's utterly sexy when he's brewing potions." Harry tilted his head up to kiss him. "I see a man who doesn't deserve to have a portrait like that painted."

Severus leaned his head back against the couch, and Harry put his head back on Severus' shoulder. "I was helping her," he said softly, rubbing Harry's shoulder, "with the potions and spells necessary in creating the portraits. She wanted to test it once we'd gotten it right, so I let her paint me." Severus closed his eyes as he remembered what he had tried to push out of his mind these past twenty years. "It was just supposed to be _practice_, but the next thing I knew, it was all over the Daily Prophet, and Anastasia was being hailed as the newest sensation to hit the wizarding world. Everywhere I looked, there it was, every one of my flaws laid bare for the world to see. Anastasia said it was so _perfect_ that she couldn't bare to waste it as practice. She said that I was the perfect first subject because I was so dark and flawed."

Harry gripped Severus' robes tightly. "That's awful," he spat. "That woman's evil."

"Hmm," Severus hummed noncommittally. "I couldn't even take legal action because then everyone would _know_ it was me, and that was the last thing I wanted. So I split ties with her and never saw her again until the beginning of the term when she came to apologize." Severus paused thoughtfully. "Although now I can't be sure that it wasn't part of some carefully orchestrated plan to get into Hogwarts. She likely thought she'd struck gold when I had you for detention that night. I cannot help but be grateful to her, though," Severus murmured, leaning down to kiss Harry. "Without her, I might never have had this."

Harry tensed, and Severus cursed himself. That had been a foolish thing to say, in light of what had happened earlier. He pulled back. "Harry, I have never helped you with the intention of seducing you."

Without warning, Harry grabbed Severus' collar and pulled him back down for a kiss. Harry was not usually aggressive, but Severus found himself enjoying the fact that the boy was willing to take the lead. "I know," the young wizard said breathlessly when they pulled apart. "I know that, but I couldn't help thinking about what she said. I'm sorry." He looked down, picking a bit of imaginary lint off of Severus' robes. "I hate that she can do this to me. I hate that she's in my head right now, trying to taint this, trying to make it something dirty."

"Harry, we are a teacher and a student in the midst of a clandestine affair. 'Dirty' is how most of the world would see it."

Harry shook his head. "But it's _not_. And I don't care what the rest of the world might think, because I…" He stopped, and Severus was surprised to see a bit of pink tinge his cheekbones. He slid off of Severus' lap. "It's late, the others will be coming back soon. I'll come here tomorrow, yeah?" At Severus' nod, Harry slipped out of the portrait hole.

Severus stared into the fire, avoiding looking at the now-uncovered portrait, part of him wishing that Harry had finished his sentence.

* * *

Author's note: Mwahaha, you didn't think I was _done_ with Anastasia, did you? Oh no. And this chapter also reveals Severus' portrait, which many of you were asking for, as well as why Sev and Anastasia split. As for what Harry was too embarrassed to say to Sev, I'm sure my clever readers have already figured it out. As always, your thoughts are appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9

So I got my first flame since I posted the last chapter. Not as traumatic as I thought it would be. I feel as though I went through a necessary right of passage and am now _officially_ a fanfic author. Anyways, I know the story's been a bit slow lately, but it will pick up next chapter. As always, much love to all my reviewers, and I appreciate your thoughts!

* * *

Dean was the only person sitting in the Gryffindor common room when Harry returned. Even the younger years had gone off somewhere. "Hey mate," Dean greeted him. "Finish studying?"

Harry flopped down on the seat next to his roommate, feigning fatigue. "Not hardly. Snape wants a full foot and half. I'll be _lucky_ to get it done by Monday. The man's a sadist."

"And you're a masochist for taking extra lessons with him." Dean grinned, his teeth shining whitely against his dark skin. "Sounds like you make the perfect couple."

Harry threw a pillow to hide the fact that he was fighting a smile. "Gross Dean." Although Harry found it anything but. "You're back early," he said, desperate to change the subject. "I thought you had a date with Ginny."

Dean sighed heavily, leaning his head back. "Ginny ditched me."

"That sucks, mate. I'm sorry."

Dean shrugged. "I suppose I saw it coming. I suspected for a while now that she liked somebody else." He gave Harry a sideways look. "I actually thought she liked you."

Harry held up his hands, shaking his head. "Trust me, Dean, I'm not interested. She's like my sister."

Dean looked relieved. "It's not that I would mind…" he protested lamely.

"I wouldn't do that to you, mate. Besides, I don't want Ginny, so it's kind of a moot point, isn't it?"

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Harry was happy that he hadn't allowed Ginny to let him be the reason for their break-up. Dean was a good friend and Harry would hate to lose him.

Dean was the one to finally break the silence. "Harry?" he asked tentatively, and Harry was surprised at his tone. "_Is_ there someone you like?" But before Harry could answer, Dean added quickly, "You know I won't judge you, right?"

Harry's heart seemed to freeze. Could Dean have possibly found out about him and Severus? "What, exactly, are you trying to say Dean?" Harry asked, keeping his voice cool.

"Hey, no offense meant! It's just that you haven't dated anyone since Chang, even though we both know you could have any girl in school. I thought that maybe if you decided you liked blokes-" Dean paused and took a breath. "Look, I only ask because I know Seamus fancies you, and it's hard enough for him to get dates, you know?"

"Seamus?" Harry laughed more out of relief than anything else. He sobered, though, at the look on Dean's face. "Sorry, Dean. I wasn't laughing at Seamus, really. I don't think it's funny, I just thought you were talking about something else. Look, you can tell Seamus I'm flattered, but I'm not looking to date right now."

"But you are?" Dean pressed. "Interested in blokes, I mean."

Harry sighed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "I think for me, it's on a person to person basis," he replied slowly. "I mean, I never even looked at any other girl but Cho, and I didn't even consider blokes until-" Harry bit his lip. He'd said too much.

Dean leaned forward with a grin. "You're _seeing_ someone, aren't you?"

Harry sighed. Dean wouldn't leave him alone until he got more information. Harry would have to tell him enough to appease him, even if it was half lies. "Look, Dean, I can't tell you who he is, but yes, I'm seeing someone. It's not that I don't trust you, but I can't chance it getting out and getting back to You-Know-Who." That wasn't completely false; Severus _would_ be in a lot of trouble if news of their relationship got to the Death Eaters.

Dean sobered immediately. "Mate, I wouldn't-"

"I _know_, Dean. I know you wouldn't, but he means a lot to me and I can't take the risk. Look, Ron and Hermione don't even know I'm seeing anyone, okay? That's how paranoid I've been about this."

Dean nodded solemnly. "I understand, Harry. I won't tell anyone." He frowned, thinking. "He doesn't go to the school, does he?" Harry could tell that Dean wasn't really asking. "Dumbledore won't let You-Know-Who touch a student…" he trailed off. "Sorry."

"No, you're right. He's not a student." It wouldn't hurt to let Dean know that much. That way if he let anything slip, nobody would be looking for Harry's boyfriend in the school. Harry bit back a smile. Severus was his _boyfriend_.

"He makes you happy, doesn't he?" Dean asked softly, shaking Harry out of his reverie.

"Yeah, he does." Harry stared into the fire. "He doesn't believe it, though. He thinks he's too mean, but he can be quite sweet when he wants to be."

"Do you love him?"

"I- I think I might." Harry confessed, looking down at his hands. "But I don't know if he feels the same way. He's not the type to…rush into anything, you know?" Harry sighed, leaning his head back against the sofa. He rubbed his face with his hands. "It's just so impossible to tell what he's thinking, sometimes." Which was an absurd thing to complain about, being as that was the very skill that kept Severus _alive_.

Dean took Harry's hand and squeezed it. "I'm sure if he's not _in_ love with you yet, it's because he's too busy _falling_ in love with you." He let go of Harry's hand and sighed dramatically. "Now you have to help me figure out what to tell _Seamus_. The poor guy's gonna be heartbroken."

Harry had to laugh. "He was really that hung up on me?" He found that difficult to believe.

"Oh yes. He's been carrying quite a torch for you for some time. That, and he's exhausted all of the other available blokes in the castle. He's quite bored with the selection." Harry laughed again, and Dean leaned towards him. "Do you know he even dated Malfoy?" he whispered conspiratorially. "It didn't last long, as you might guess, but if that isn't desperation, I don't know what is."

Harry shook his head, bemused. Had he really been that blind? Malfoy being gay, well that was the worst kept secret of their generation, but Seamus? And Seamus _fancied_ Harry? Harry couldn't help but secretly wonder who else in the castle was gay- who were all these blokes that Seamus had apparently already dated? It didn't make a difference, of course, now that Harry and Severus were together, but Harry couldn't help but feel he'd spent his entire Hogwarts career with blinders on.

* * *

Harry was trapped. He couldn't move, could barely breathe. Something was wrapped around him, restricting his movements. He panicked, fighting, when his ears picked up a sound. Panting, Harry paused, straining to listen.

"-the last time, Petunia!" _Uncle Vernon?_ Harry thought dazedly. "We tried to beat that weirdness out of him, but it didn't work." Suddenly, Uncle Vernon's large, angry face was in front of him, and Harry was being lifted up bodily. Harry tried to fight the large hands holding him, but found that he still couldn't move. "This way," Vernon hissed, "he'll be out of our lives for good."

And then Vernon was handing him over to someone. Harry struggled at first, but then he melted in relief when he saw who it was. _Severus_. It was all going to be okay, now. Severus was here to take him away from the Dursleys', like he'd promised.

"Harry," Severus murmured, stroking his face. "Don't worry Harry." Severus kissed him, his hands moving down to Harry's neck. "It will all be over soon." And then Severus was squeezing, choking him. As Harry gasped for breath, he could hear cold, high-pitched laughter in the background…

Harry shot up in his bed, clawing at the sheet that had gotten tangled around his neck. He sat there a moment, panting as the fear ebbed. He hadn't taken Severus' sleep aid that night. He'd run out, and in light of everything that had happened during the day, he'd forgotten to ask for more.

_Severus_. Harry shuddered as he remembered the feeling of the Potions Master's long fingers closing around his throat as Voldemort laughed in the background. _It was just a dream,_ Harry told himself firmly. _Severus would never do something like that._ Still, Harry felt the intense need to go and find him, to reassure himself. Harry needed more of the sleep aid anyway, if he wanted any hope of falling back to sleep that night. Or maybe Severus would let him stay the night. Harry found the idea of sleeping curled up with his boyfriend rather pleasant. His lips quirked up a bit at the thought. His _boyfriend_.

Harry quietly dug out the Marauder's Map and his invisibility cloak. Thankfully, he hadn't seemed to disturb any of his dorm-mates with his nightmare. He turned his attention to the map, searching for Severus' little labeled dot. As luck would have it, Severus was prowling an empty corridor not far from Gryffindor Tower. He was probably hoping to catch a few Gryffindors out of bed after curfew. Nothing delighted that man more than doling out punishments, especially to the Gryffindors. Harry couldn't help smiling and shaking his head fondly. Well, he'd let Severus catch _one_ Gryffindor tonight, anyhow.

Pausing one last time to make sure none of his roommates were awake, Harry threw on his cloak and snuck out of the Tower. It didn't take long for him to find Severus, despite the fact that the man was skulking about like something out of a bad spy movie. Not wanting to startle him, Harry deliberately made a noise. When Severus looked in his direction, Harry called his name.

"Harry?" Severus blinked, eyes searching. "Where the devil are you?"

"Here," Harry opened the cloak a bit so Severus could see him, but to anyone coming from behind, he was still invisible.

Severus stepped closer to him, concern clear on his face. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah. Everything's fine. I had a nightmare. Wanted to see you." Despite the terror he'd felt earlier, the words sounded childish to his ears. He shifted his weight uncomfortably as Severus studied his face.

"All right," Severus said finally. "Go, wait in my chambers. And don't dally; it's not safe for you to be wandering at night."

"I brought my cloak," Harry said defensively.

"And I shall be grateful for small wonders. Go. I'll be there soon."

Harry closed the cloak and headed down the now-familiar corridors towards Severus' personal chambers, pausing only to check his map so he didn't accidentally bump into Filch or anyone else. When he got to the portrait that housed Severus' personal quarters, he wasn't surprised to find the nasty-looking wizard awake in his frame. After all, it was well known that Professor Snape liked prowling the school after dark to catch rule-breakers. The portrait was probably used to keeping odd hours.

For the first time, Harry felt a moment's unease in approaching the portrait. The Fat Lady loved to gossip, who was to say the portrait wouldn't talk to another, who might talk to a teacher or a student. Harry and Severus' secret might have already been compromised, and they didn't even realize. Checking his map again to make sure he was alone, Harry slipped off his cloak and approached the portrait. "Err, hello," he said tentatively.

The portrait blinked once in surprise before sighing. "If you're worried about me keeping your dirty little secret, boy, you needn't concern yourself."

"I don't?"

"I serve as the guard for a professor's room, not a student's," it sneered. "I'm not required to report any wrongdoings and I'm charmed to keep Severus' personal business personal. So unless he brings you inside to torture you, your secret is safe with me." The portrait gave Harry a long look. "Is he hurting you in any way?"

"No!"

"Then no one will hear from me about your nighttime visits. It is a relief, I assure you. It's been so long since Severus got any, and I'd hate to be the one to spoil it."

Blushing furiously, Harry's only response was to give the password. The portrait smirked as it swung open, and Harry clambered inside. Severus arrived not long after. He said nothing as he stepped inside, but wrapped his arms around Harry. Harry sighed contentedly, leaning into Severus' warmth. "You're a terrible little prat, you know," Severus said conversationally, stroking Harry's hair. "Making me worry like that."

Harry was suddenly very aware of how chilled he'd gotten, walking around the castle in nothing but his pajamas and invisibility cloak. He pressed closer to Severus, trying to absorb the man's warmth. "Sorry," he said, voice muffled by Severus' robes. "Where did you go?"

"I filed a report that said I'd caught you out of bed and had you in detention for the night." His hands moved down to caress the back of Harry's neck, but stopped when Harry tensed. "Sit." Severus pushed him gently towards the couch, expression unreadable. Harry did while Severus stoked the fire. When he was satisfied, he settled down on the couch next to Harry, who wasted little time snuggling up next to him. He was still cold, and Severus was like a furnace. No wonder the man lived in the cold dungeons; he'd probably die of heat exhaustion in the Tower.

"Tell me about this nightmare." Severus' fingers were back in Harry's hair. He'd developed a habit of it, not that Harry minded. He found the gesture soothing. "I assume it wasn't some sort of vision, otherwise you would have gone straight to McGonagall."

"No, it wasn't like that." Harry bit his lip. Now that he was here, he was reluctant to tell Severus about the dream. After all, who wants to hear that their boyfriend dreamt about them strangling him? "I don't really remember the dream-"

"Harry." There was a warning in Severus' tone. It was the same one he used when Harry tried to gloss over or avoid talking about something that had happened at the Dursleys'. It was the tone that said, _I know you're about to lie to me, and you'd better reconsider that decision or there _will_ be consequences._ It was sometimes rather amazing the amount of meaning that Severus could pack into a single word.

Resigned, Harry told Severus about the dream, pausing when he got to the part where Uncle Vernon had handed him over to Severus. "Go on," Severus coaxed, but Harry found himself expressly unwilling.

"It doesn't matter. It was just a dream. I don't want to talk about it."

"You're right. It _is_ just a dream, but it's scared you. You'll feel better if you talk about it. Your uncle handed you over to someone…"

Harry sighed, leaning his head back against Severus' shoulder. He was glad at least that he couldn't see Severus' face for this part. "It was you, and I was so relieved. I thought you were there to take me away, like you'd said." Severus' fingers tightened briefly in his hair. "You told me it was going to be okay. You kissed me and said that it would all be over soon. And then…" Severus was silent this time, allowing Harry to take his time saying it. Harry took a deep breath. "You wrapped your fingers around my neck, and…" Harry couldn't say the word, so instead he skipped to the next part. "I heard Voldemort laughing. That's when I woke up."

"So you had a dream that I tried to kill you and the first thing you do is seek me out? Most people would find that rather counterintuitive."

"Severus, don't _joke_ about it."

"I'm not. I wouldn't." Severus' hand moved down to Harry's shoulder, tracing soothing patterns. "It's quite true. When people dream about someone hurting them, their first instinct is to avoid that person. They think that maybe, subconsciously, they never really trusted that person, or that they somehow picked up on that person's desire to hurt them. And yet, you came straight to me."

"Because I _don't _think you'd try to hurt me, and I _do_ trust you." Harry picked at the fabric of his pajamas. "And you're the only one who makes the nightmares go away."

"Perhaps you had the dream because you're worried how I might… _unintentionally_ harm you. We are in a rather complicated relationship, and those hurts happen in even the best of situations." Severus was quiet a moment, fingers back in Harry's hair. "I cannot deny your timing is… impeccable."

Harry craned his head around to look at the Potions Master. "What do you mean? Did Vol- I mean, You-Know-Who, did he tell you to go after me?"

"No, nothing of the sort." Harry relaxed, though he hadn't been aware of tensing. "Harry, I fear I must break my word to you. You must go back to your Muggle relatives this summer." Severus smiled, but it was humorless. "Perhaps this is the very situation your dream pertained to."

Harry slumped back against the couch. "Oh."

"Oh?" Severus raised an eyebrow. "Is that all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"You aren't upset? Angry? I swore to you that you wouldn't have to go back to that house and now I am reneging on that. Surely you must feel something."

Harry shrugged. If anything, Severus seemed to be the one upset. "I'm disappointed, sure, but I guess I figured I always would have to go back there. Ever since first year, Dumbledore's been telling me I need to stay at the Dursleys' until I was seventeen, so I can't honestly say I'm shocked to find that's still true."

Severus looked away. "You never believed me," he said flatly. "You never believed that I would take you away. Perhaps that _is_ the reason for your nightmare."

"That's not it at all." Harry pressed closer to the older man. "I knew you'd try. I knew you'd do everything you could. And I knew if _anyone_ could get me out of the Dursleys' early, it would be you." He reached out to turn Severus' face towards his own. "If you did your best to make it happen, then you didn't break your word so far as I'm concerned. Besides, it's only until the end of July, right? I can handle two more months." He stroked the hard line of Severus' jaw; he loved how angular the man's face was. "You don't need to save me, Severus."

"I know." The man's eyes were dark and almost sad. "I know, but I wish you'd let me."


	10. Chapter 10

So this is shorter than I generally like to give you, but it's been a while between updates, and I already got scolded for not updating in over a week. Spring break took over most of my attention (it was over far too soon) and I rewrote the chapter a couple times. I had originally included another bonding scene between Harry and Dean, but it was just dragging. As cute as it was, it had to be cut.

I'd like to say a special thanks to Tonks-is-cool for writing the most lovely review, and to everyone else indignant over the news of my first flame. Love and kisses to all of my reviewers!

Quick question: Do normal people say 'stressors'? I do, but I'm a psych major. My perception is a little skewed.

* * *

"You were brewing all night?"

Severus looked up briefly at the teen that had commandeered his bed the night before. "I was low on your sleep aid, and there were a number of other things I needed to replenish."

Harry looked even more rumpled than usual; he must have just woken. "You avoided going to bed," he said leaning against the doorframe of Severus' private lab. "You still don't trust yourself around me."

"I don't trust myself in the same bed as you, no." Severus continued to brew his potions as turning from them now would ruin them, but he was more than capable of halving his attention. "It would be far too easy to forget myself while half asleep."

Harry had an odd expression on his face. "I wish you didn't have to be so careful around me." He stepped forward to peer into the cauldrons, but he was careful not to get into Severus' way. "Should I not come later? Let you get some sleep? Seeing as its my fault you didn't get any last night."

"I _could_ have slept on the couch, you know." Severus couldn't help but feel warmth in the pit of his stomach at Harry's concern. Really, he was becoming as emotional as a Gryffindor. "You may still come here if you wish."

Harry tugged on his fringe and Severus regretted the fact that his hands were otherwise occupied. That gesture, he was quickly coming to learn, indicated some distress or worry that Harry was feeling. Every time he did it, Severus was overcome with the urge to soothe him. "Is this too hard on you?" Harry asked. "All… this?" Harry waved his hand vaguely. "It's not like you don't have any other stressors in your life…"

Thankfully, the potions had reached a point where Severus could safely step away from them for a moment, and he did, grabbing Harry by the shoulders. "Harry, don't start blaming yourself for the problems in _my_ life."

"But it can't be helping," Harry protested. "You have to be so careful all the time. I don't want you to have to be careful around me, too."

"Is that what this is about?" Severus shook his head and cast Stasis charms on the cauldrons. The potions were stable enough that it wouldn't hurt them. "Harry, I cannot deny that what we have isn't easy, but it _does_ help."

"How could it-?'

"It has been a very long time since I was intimate with someone- emotionally," he added as he saw the blush start on Harry's face. "I'd forgotten how much it can ease the burden. And it is much easier to do what I must among the Dark Lord's followers when I remember what I have to protect." His eyes searched Harry's face. "If you want out of this affair, I won't stop you. I have told you more than once that you might be better off. But I also will not allow you to use your misguided sense of guilt as an excuse."

"You know I don't, Severus, but-"

"Then this discussion is over," Severus said dismissively, turning back to his potions. He sent Harry a sly look before lifting the Stasis charm. "And if you're worried about me becoming sexually frustrated, well I am equipped with two very capable hands."

"_Severus!_" Harry choked, turning a vibrant shade of red. A very _Gryffindor_ red. Certainly none of his Slytherins had ever turned such a violent color. Then again, Slytherins had a habit of turning innocent conversations into something downright lewd. Surely Gryffindors were too noble for that sort of thing.

"You'd best get back to Gryffindor Tower before breakfast starts. If Minerva thinks I'm making you miss meals, she'll have reason to look more closely into this detention. And I do doubt the fact that she'll think letting you into my quarters and allowing you to sleep in my bed is sufficient punishment." He paused, not completely happy with the color of his potion. He added another half-tablespoon of beetle eyes, nodding in satisfaction as the color deepened. He'd have to get more soon; his were becoming dehydrated. "Neither do I for that matter, so I suggest you leave before I give you a _real_ detention."

"Sadist," Harry said. He pressed a kiss to Severus' jaw. "I'll see you later?"

"Yes. Now go convince your friends that the nasty old Potions professor left you relatively unscathed. But do try not to appear too happy. I have a reputation to uphold." Severus could hear Harry's laughter as he left.

He allowed himself to sigh tiredly over the cauldrons when he was sure the teen was gone. Severus had started brewing to distract himself from the dangerous and very delectable image of Harry in his bed, but with the full intention of going to sleep when he became too exhausted to be aroused. Instead, his first batch was ruined when he heard Harry thrashing in his sleep and had run to his side. It seemed that the nightmare Harry had come to Severus about was to be the first of many that night. Severus had been at his side immediately every time to soothe him before the terror became too great, and more than one potion had suffered because of it. Harry never fully awakened when Severus soothed him so it was likely the boy didn't even remember his night terrors. Severus was thankful for that small blessing.

_The sleep of a sixteen year-old should be mostly peaceful, _Severus thought darkly, bottling the finished sleeping aid. He'd added a calming component remembering how well Harry had slept under the influence of the Calming Draught. _With only nightmares about showing up to class naked or being ridiculed by his peers. Not of abusive family members and Dark wizards out to murder them._ Harry had spoken just enough during his sleep that Severus knew exactly what haunted his nightmares. He'd called out Black's name multiple times, had begged for forgiveness and for mercy, pleaded not to be shut in his cupboard, and, the most heart-breaking of all, cried, "Please don't hurt them! It's my fault, don't hurt them!" It was almost enough to make Severus give Harry a lifetime's supply of Dreamless Sleep Draught. But what he'd told Harry had been true; suppressing dreams too often could be dangerous and only that thought had stayed his hand. More often than he'd like, he'd seen the result of Dreamless Sleep addiction, and it wasn't a fate he'd wish to consign Harry to. Or anyone else for that matter.

_With the possible exception of Anastasia,_ the little voice offered gleefully, and for once, Severus didn't argue. He might have once considered her the love of his life, but he had long since learned she gave no regard to anyone but herself. He was just glad he realized it before he allowed something else to start between them.

There was little doubt that Anastasia's words towards Harry yesterday (had it really only been yesterday?) had a hand in this newest bout of nightmares, and Severus once again had the desire to _Crucio_ her until she had a permanent bed in St. Mungo's. He had put Harry on the path towards healing, but Anastasia's poison had set him back. There were plenty of things Anastasia had done that he could have forgiven, but hurting Harry was unforgivable.

Not that Severus could deny his own hand in the nightmares. Harry's pleas of, "Please, don't leave me in there, I'll be good!" had cut him especially deep. He'd promised to deliver Harry from that house and had proved unable to do so. He'd allowed Harry to hope and then dashed those hopes. And no matter how stoically Harry accepted that, Severus could never forgive himself for it.

* * *

Harry had woken early Monday morning, and had decided to go down for an early breakfast. He liked the Great Hall early in the morning, quiet and empty. Even the teachers tended to not be up so early. Harry knew that Severus woke early but preferred to take coffee in his quarters before going to breakfast. He said he needed a heavy dose of caffeine before dealing with the dunderheads. The thought made Harry smile.

Suddenly a hand shot out dragging Harry into an abandoned classroom. Harry had his wand out and let fly a Stinging Hex at his unseen attacker before the door even closed behind him.

"Potter!" a familiar voice yelped.

"Malfoy?" Harry didn't relax as he stared at the blond. Malfoy was rubbing a patch of red skin on his hand, evidence of Harry's hex. His wand wasn't even out. "What the hell are you-?"

"Is it true?" Malfoy asked abruptly.

"Is _what_ true?"

Malfoy made a face. "You're going to make me say it aren't you?" He took a breath as though steeling himself for something unpleasant. "You and Severus, is it true?"

Harry's heart was in his throat, but he forced a laugh. "What are you _on_ about, Malfoy?"

Malfoy blew his fringe out of his face in an exasperated manner. "I suppose you'd have to deny it. If I swear a Wizard's Oath, will you tell me the truth?"

"The truth about what?" Harry asked, eyeing his nemesis warily. A Wizard's Oath was not something to be taken lightly. The magic of the oath bound the wizard who swore it, making it impossible for him to renege, and any attempts to do so would result in excruciating pain. It wasn't considered as harsh as the Unbreakable Vow, since it didn't result in death, and the wizard could be freed of the oath by the one he'd sworn it to. But wizards had been driven mad when they'd attempted to break it.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "We'll start with the oath, then? After you can talk freely." He held out his wand so the tip of it was just inches from Harry's own. "I, Draco Malfoy, do swear," at the words, a beam of light connected the two wand tips, reminding Harry forcibly of _Priori Incantatem_, "that I will not reveal any information learned in this room to anyone. I also swear that I will not attempt to use such information to harm you, Harry Potter, or anyone else it might pertain to. Should I break my word, my life and magic will be forfeit." The beam of light brightened almost to the point of pain before disappearing. "There. You can tell me your deepest, darkest secrets and I can't do a damned thing about it."

Harry blinked at Malfoy in surprise. "Why on earth would you do that, Malfoy?"

"Because Severus is my godfather, and that makes him family. I understand you don't know a whole lot about family Potter," Malfoy sneered, "but we look out for each other." He fished a piece of parchment out of his robes. "I received an owl last night from my father."

"Your father's out of Azkaban?" Harry blurted.

"Not big on tact, are we, Potter? Yes, my father escaped. You can't tell me you're surprised." No, Harry couldn't honestly say he was. "He had a visitor yesterday. Well, officially my mother had a visitor, but…" He scanned the letter briefly before reading out loud. "'This woman claimed that Severus had entered into some sort of relationship with none other than Harry Potter. I laughed, of course, as I'm sure you are, Draco, but she provided some compelling evidence in the form pf pensieve memories.'" Malfoy looked back up at Harry. "Is it true?"

Harry sat down heavily at one of the desks, his legs no longer capable of holding his weight. King had told Lucius Malfoy. This was very, very bad. "Did you tell Severus?" Harry asked, knowing he'd as good as answered Malfoy's question.

To his credit, Malfoy's eyes only widened slightly at the implication. "No. Not yet. I wanted to confirm it first. Potter-"

"Why?" Harry interrupted. "Why are you doing all this, Malfoy? Why are you helping me?"

Malfoy snorted. "I'm not helping _you_, Potter. Severus has the most to lose if this gets out."

Harry felt the irrational urge to laugh. He and Malfoy actually had something in common; they both cared about Severus. This was surreal. "You have to give the letter to Severus."

"He's in his rooms. I can't-"

"I can."

"Oh gross, Potter." Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "I did not need that mental image."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Malfoy."

"To think, I always thought Severus was a man of taste." He eyed Harry appraisingly. "Although _you_ seem to have better taste than I'd always imagined. Tell me, Potter, he's fantastic in bed, isn't he? I've always wondered."

Harry blushed furiously. "Malfoy-!"

"Oh, come on, Potter. I can't tell anyone."

"You're sick."

"I'm not the one sleeping with a professor."

"I'm not sleeping with him."

Malfoy frowned. "But you're-" His eyes widened. "Sweet Merlin, Potter, are you trying to tell me you haven't had sex yet? What the hell is wrong with you? Don't tell me you're playing the blushing virgin." And Harry hated that his blush deepened at that. Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Of course you are. _Gryffindors_."

"You'd know, wouldn't you," Harry retorted, hoping his cheeks would cool before his face combusted. "I heard about you and Seamus."

If he'd hoped to catch the other teen off-guard, he was out of luck. Malfoy merely shrugged, looking unperturbed. "Trust me, Finnegan was no blushing virgin. Why, did you want details?"

"No!" Harry's voice came out squeaky. He cleared his throat. "No, that's all right."

Malfoy smirked. "Just as well, it was nothing to write home about. An experiment that I have no wish to repeat." He looked at his watch. "So when did you-?"

"Not now, it's too risky." Today was Monday, that meant lab/therapy session tonight. "I've got extra lessons with him tonight."

"Extra lessons. Right."

"Shove it, Malfoy." Harry held out his hand expectantly. "The letter?"

Malfoy hesitated a moment before holding it out. He didn't release it, however, when Harry grabbed it. "Severus had better not get hurt because of this… _thing_ he has with you, Potter," the blond hissed, "or I will make your life a living hell, do you understand me?"

Harry nodded. It would be no less than he deserved.

Malfoy held onto the letter a moment longer before releasing it, shaking his head. "Honestly, the man's taking all this risk and for what? He's not even getting any sex out of the deal. I sincerely hope you're worth it, Potter." And with that, Malfoy swept out of the room, leaving Harry clutching the letter.

"I've just had a civil conversation with _Malfoy_," Harry muttered to himself in disbelief. If it wasn't for the piece of parchment in his hand, Harry might have been able to convince himself that it had all been a dream. But it crinkled and rustled quite realistically; Harry had to accept the fact that, yes, that conversation _had_ actually happened. So much for nothing _else_ changing this year.

* * *

Author's note: And the plot thickens. Didn't I promise you it would pick up? Didn't I?... I actually don't remember if I did, and I'm too lazy to check. On a personal note, I think I've been reading way too many H/D stories because I think I made them too friendly. Anybody have an opinion on that?


	11. Chapter 11

So I had a lot of time this weekend. Consider this my apology for not posting Chapter 10 sooner, although I made no promises about the length of time between updates. People are mixed on the whole "stressors" deal, so I'll just leave it as is. Maybe Petunia had a Dr. Phil obsession over the summer hols. We'll just all be grateful that I didn't say something along the lines of "number of LCUs in relation to the hardiness score."

Much love to all my darling reviewers who left me so many reviews last chapter! I got a lot. Is that the secret, not updating for a while? Shall I become one of those demanding writers that withholds updates until they get x number of reviews?... Nahhh. I prefer it when people review because they have something to say. So here goes my demand:

I will not update unless I get at least one hit on this chapter. Cool? I'm in a weird mood today.

* * *

Severus set the letter aside, outwardly calm. Inwardly, his mind was racing. Anastasia had gone to _Lucius_ of all people. Anastasia _hated _Lucius Malfoy. She always had, all the way back to their Hogwarts years. But Lucius was precisely the last person that Severus wanted with this information, and Anastasia must have known that. Bringing proof of something like this to the Dark Lord could put Lucius on the fast-track back into the Inner Circle. They could not afford to let that happen.

He looked up at Harry, who was sitting in front of his desk like he always did Monday nights. The only thing that belied the fact that this was something out of the ordinary was the nervous way the teen was tugging on his fringe. "How did you procure this letter from Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry shifted almost guiltily and Severus' eyes narrowed. That did not bode well. "Err, he sort of… gave it to me."

"He gave it to you," Severus repeated blandly. "Please tell me that doesn't mean what I think it means."

Although Severus' tone had been mild, Harry winced as though he'd been yelled at. "He knows."

"And you just decided to confirm it for him by asking for his letter? You idiot boy, do you realize that in this very letter Draco politely handed over, Lucius asks him to suss out the truth? You just did all of his damned work for him!"

"He swore a Wizard's Oath, Severus," Harry said, sounding hurt. "I wouldn't have risked it otherwise. You _know_ I wouldn't."

Severus passed his hand over his eyes tiredly. He hadn't meant to snap, but the situation was very dangerous. The most minor mistakes could cost them both a lot more than just their secret. "Was it retroactive? Because if Draco goes to Lucius with the news that you asked him to swear-"

"I didn't ask. He offered and swore while I was still pretending I had no clue what he was talking about."

Well _that_ was certainly an interesting development. It seemed Draco wasn't too keen on being the little Lucius-clone that he'd always threatened to become. With any luck, this meant that Draco wasn't willing to go merrily skipping off to be branded with the Dark Mark. He'd have to have a long talk with his godson later. "What we have to worry about now is whether or not Lucius has already gone to the Dark Lord with this information. Either way, this is not a fortuitous development."

Harry nodded slowly. "He's on the board of governors. If Malfoy doesn't get him the proof he wants, he can start an investigation of his own."

"Precisely." Part of Severus was pleased Harry had seen that on his own without prompting. The other part scolded the first for not staying on task. "I'll talk to Mr. Malfoy myself later on, but from the details of your encounter, we can assume for now that he will not pass along any proof he might garner. That gives us some breathing room, as Lucius is not likely to go to the Dark Lord without evidence,- unless he is certain he will _find_ that evidence- not after his… disgrace last summer."

He didn't mention the prophecy or the Ministry, but Harry still flinched. Black's death was still very close. "We need to find some way to give Lucius incontrovertible proof that Anastasia was wrong," Severus continued, pretending not to notice.

Harry chewed his lip. "How? I mean, she _wasn't_ wrong. So how do we prove that she was?"

Severus sat for a long moment, looking at the letter contemplatively. He glanced back up at Harry, an idea forming in the back of his mind. It was a good idea, entirely logical and rational, and yet it put a bad taste in his mouth. Still, it was the only one they had, and it was very likely to actually work. "I have an idea," he told Harry, hiding his reluctance. "It necessitates Mr. Malfoy's help, but neither of you are going to much like it…"

* * *

"You want me to _what_?" Malfoy squawked in a thoroughly undignified manner. If Harry hadn't heard what he was responding to, he might have been shocked. But he had responded in much the same way. "Oh no, Severus, you've got to be _kidding_ me."

"I assure you, Draco, that I would do no such thing."

Malfoy whirled on Harry. "Potter, you must have some kind of pull with him. Tell him that this is completely _mad_!"

"Trust me, I tried." Harry looked over at Severus, whose expression remained unreadable. "But he's right. It's the best chance we've got. I thought you wanted to help him, Malfoy. Family looks out for each other, right?"

Malfoy shook his head violently. "I'm not sure I like him _that _much."

"The depth of your regard astounds me, Draco," Severus commented dryly.

"I didn't mean it like that, I just… with _Potter_?"

"Draco," Severus said patiently, sounding for all the world like he was beginning a lecture. "The only way to keep your father from investigating this further is to prove to him that my relationship with Potter is just not a possibility. The best way to do that is to convince him that Potter has been in another relationship. As the only other person privy to this secret, you are our only choice for that."

Malfoy nodded. "Alright. I get that much. But why can't I just write my letter to Father and be done with it?"

"Because your father is desperate to regain his former status among the Death Eaters. He will not want to believe that this information is useless. He might believe- rightly, I might add- that I asked you to lie for me. And the moment one of your fellows finds you with your hands down the pants of some Ravenclaw, the ruse will be up- or did you think that wouldn't get back to Lucius?" Severus' upper lip curled. "Not only will your life be in danger once the Death Eaters know you lied to protect Potter, but my life will be as well."

Malfoy's face went white and Harry knew that whatever else the blond was- spoiled, arrogant git came to mind- he truly cared about Severus. "So Potter and I have to…" He looked over at Harry and shuddered. "I don't know if I _can_, Severus. He's a _Gryffindor_."

"You dated Seamus," Harry pointed out, feeling mildly affronted.

"And I told you, Potter, that was an experiment that I have no wish to repeat."

"Understand, Draco," Severus interrupted, "I will not force you to help us. This puts you in an uncomfortable situation, and I will not hold it against you if you refuse. But you also must understand that if I'd had another choice, I would never have asked this of you in the first place."

Malfoy licked his lips nervously and looked back to Harry once more. "Right. I guess… I guess this means we're dating, then."

"I guess so," Harry replied awkwardly. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see that, although Severus had gotten exactly what he wanted, he didn't look at all pleased.

* * *

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were whispering and giggling furiously as they made their way down from the North Tower. They'd been with Professor Trelawney, doing some extra work for Divination class. It was their favorite class, after all, and Professor Trelawney told them they both had the makings of true Seers. But they weren't anything like Hermione Granger, of course.

They discussed how Lavender's horoscope had told her that her true love was near and they made guesses as to who it could be. Lavender was hoping for Ron Weasley, who she'd had her eye on ever since the DA last year. Parvati, however was trying to convince her friend against Ron. He hadn't made such a good impression on Parvati or her sister Padma at the Yule Ball fourth year. Parvati had the feeling that Ron wasn't the romantic type.

A sudden noise made the both of them stop, however. It came again, sounding like a moan. Parvati and Lavender shared significant looks before creeping forward silently. If that had been a moan of pain, the attacker might still be around. If it had been a moan of pleasure, well, they didn't want to risk losing a juicy piece of gossip.

They heard a low, throaty chuckle coming from the same general area as the moan. "Liked that, did you?" a familiar voice purred.

_Malfoy_, Lavender mouthed. Parvati nodded, feeling as though Christmas had come early. Malfoy and his boyfriend du jour was a popular topic among the gossips. If they had managed to catch Malfoy at it with someone new, their friends would be absolutely green with envy.

"Draco," a second voice hissed, too low for the girls to identify. They crept closer. "Draco, don't. Not here. Someone will see-"

"Don't have to be careful anymore," Malfoy's voice was muffled. "I told my family. We could let the whole school see if we wanted to."

"Draco!"

The girls peered around the corner to see Malfoy pinning someone against the wall. His blond head was lowered, nuzzling the neck of… Lavender and Parvati stared; that was _impossible_!

"Relax, Harry," Malfoy said. "It's going to be fine." He leaned in for a kiss.

Lavender couldn't help it; she squeaked. Malfoy's head whipped around in her direction and Harry looked up, startled. His hair was mussed- more so than usual- and his lips were red and swollen. He looked like someone who had just emerged from a really good snogging session. But with _Malfoy?_

"Lavender, Parvati, I can explain," Harry said weakly.

Malfoy smirked. "I'm sure they can figure it out for themselves, Harry."

Oh, that was really weird, hearing Malfoy call Harry by his first name. "Y-you and _Malfoy_, Harry?" Parvati stammered. "But you _hate_ him."

"Passion is passion, my dear," Malfoy said, with a sly look at Harry, who blushed. "Passionate hate can sometimes lead to… other kinds of passion." Harry's blush deepened, but he didn't contradict the blond. "Now if you don't mind, we _were_ in the middle of something."

The two girls nodded, backpedaling quickly.

"Draco!" Harry hissed before they were out of earshot, sounding embarrassed. "_You_ were the one who wanted to keep this secret."

"And you were the one who wanted to tell all your little Gryffindor friends." Malfoy sounded nonchalant. "Don't _worry_ Harry." And there was the sound of more kissing.

Lavender and Parvati nearly ran to the Great Hall. Oh what a story they had to tell!

"Are they finally gone?" Malfoy whispered in Harry's ear, making him shiver.

Harry took out his map and checked. "Yeah, we're completely alone."

"Good," Malfoy said with a sigh, stepping away from Harry and leaning his back against the wall. "Well that was more fun than I thought it would be."

"I'm flattered."

"Not _that_." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Although you're a surprisingly good kisser. I'll have to thank Severus for that."

"_Malfoy_-"

"Oh would you relax, Potter?" Malfoy raised a hand to rearrange his hair, which he had, in his own words, artfully disheveled. "I meant the act, the game. Scandalizing Brown and Patil. It was fun."

"You think this is a _game_?" Harry gaped. "Severus is in real trouble."

"Of course I know that, Potter. I know what's at stake. Just because it's dangerous doesn't mean it's not a game." He paused, thoughtfully. "Look, it's like Quidditch. If you have fun and look at it as just a game, you play your best. But if you play thinking about all the people depending on you and all the consequences of losing, you choke up. Like the Weasel," he added helpfully.

Harry scowled at the slight aimed at Ron, but he decided it was best to pick his battles. "I still don't see how this is a game."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. You're too much of a Gryffindor." For once, that didn't sound like an insult. "Look at what we're doing Potter; we're trying to convince the school- and part of the world outside of it- that we're madly in love, when the opposite couldn't be more true. We're making them see what we want them to see, believing what we want them to believe. It's a bluffing game, just with stakes higher than galleons." He pushed away from the wall. "This should be all over the school before breakfast tomorrow, although no doubt your entire House already knows. Please do remember to sing my praises when you're besieged with questions." He walked off with a lazy wave.

_Probably off to the dungeons_, Harry thought, fighting off the urge to follow him. He desperately wanted to see Severus but he knew it was a bad idea. They'd agreed, in light of the situation, to limit the number of times they'd see each other. The Monday night sessions they wouldn't cancel since that would look suspicious, but- as Severus put it- all of their other extracurricular meetings would have to cease. Save for the occasional detention.

But Harry needed Severus to tell him that the feelings of guilt roiling in his gut were unnecessary. That Harry was doing the right thing by what he couldn't help view as cheating. _Irrational,_ Severus would call it, and it was. Still Harry needed to hear him say it and wouldn't be able to until next Monday at 5 o'clock.

Or maybe not. Harry took out a piece of parchment and a quill and scribbled out a quick note. Checking his map once more to make sure he was alone, he said quietly, "Dobby."

There was a crack and the little house-elf appeared before him, eyes brimming with happiness, wearing the usual odd assortment of clothing. "Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby chirped. "Dobby is very glad Harry Potter is calling on him!"

"Hi Dobby," Harry said with an awkward little smile. "How are you?"

"Oh, Harry Potter is so kind to be asking Dobby that! Dobby is doing very well, sir. Dobby is enjoying working in Hogwarts and cleaning up after Harry Potter's noble friends!"

"Err yeah. I'm glad to hear that." Not that Harry thought that sounded like an especially good thing, but Dobby certainly seemed happy. "Listen, Dobby, I need a favor. Can you keep a secret?"

The little creature puffed out his chest importantly. "Dobby is honored to be keeping Harry Potter's secrets, sir. Dobby is not telling anyone, sir. Dobby is shutting his head in the oven before he is telling anyone-"

Harry hurriedly cut him off before he could say anything more. "I appreciate it, Dobby, but I really don't want you hurting yourself, okay?" He handed Dobby the note. "This is for Professor Snape. Give it to him when no one else is around, all right? And don't tell anyone I asked you to do this."

Dobby nodded. "Of course, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby is not letting you down!" And with another sharp crack, Dobby disappeared.

Harry hoisted his bag on his shoulder, feeling some of the irrational guilt dissipate from his gut. He knew he had nothing to confess, that Severus had already known what they were doing, hell, that Severus had _told _them to do it. Still, he knew he wouldn't feel right about it until Severus wrote back telling him to stop being an idiotic, emotional Gryffindor.

Harry headed back towards Gryffindor Tower instead of to the Great Hall for dinner. This had been part of their plan; both Harry and Malfoy missing at the same time would only add fuel to the rumor mills. Besides, Harry could put of the hundreds of questions of "is it true?" if only for a little while.

* * *

Severus felt out of sorts all day. Irritable. Today was the day Harry and Draco were to put the first phase of the plan into action, and he couldn't exactly say he was pleased. The plan involved a certain amount of physical intimacy between the boys- the very reason that they had both protested in the first place- and the thought of it made Severus hot with anger. If only it didn't have to be _Draco_. Beautiful, wealthy, young, seductive Draco. Draco who had seduced everything gay, bi, or bi-curious in the castle. Draco who was everything Severus wasn't.

Rationally, Severus knew that Draco did not _want_ Harry, which is why he had protested so vehemently against the plan. Still, Severus couldn't help but wonder when this was all over, when Harry had gotten used to kissing Draco, being close to Draco, would he find Severus wanting?

_Perhaps it is best_, Severus thought to himself, _if he falls for Draco. Someone his own age. And he would be a stabilizing influence on Draco. They could be good for each other._ Severus drummed his fingers against the wood of the High Table. _If they want to be together, I won't stand in their way._

_Like hell you won't_, the little voice snapped tartly. _As if you could stand to see Harry with anyone else, never mind with your godson._

Severus sighed. No good putting the cart before the horse anyway- as far as he knew the boys still loathed each other.

"Severus? Are you all right?"

Severus looked up to see Minerva McGonagall looking at him with concern. He immediately stopped drumming his fingers against the table; she'd known him long enough to recognize the nervous habit. "Yes Minerva just… preoccupied."

She nodded and thankfully didn't ask anything further. She did, however, look pointedly at his plate of mostly uneaten food. "You need to keep up your strength, Severus."

"I do not require a nursemaid."

"You've been sick once already this term," she said firmly in a tone that brooked no argument. "You'll eat or I'll force it down your throat."

A chuckle came from just beyond her. "I'd listen if I were you, Severus," Albus said, his eyes twinkling. "She'll do it, you know."

Glowering, Severus turned back to his plate. "One of these days you'll both realize I'm not your student any longer."

"One of these days you'll stop acting like one," Minerva said cheerfully. "Now tuck in!"

Knowing he'd lost the argument, but not truly caring, Severus obediently ate his food. It had no taste in his mouth, but it was a welcome distraction to the images of Draco shoving his tongue down Harry's throat.

Severus made his way tiredly back to his rooms after dinner, feeling drained. He'd like nothing more to have a glass of wine in front of the fire before going to bed. And if he had more than one glass, or a couple shots of Firewhiskey, well, he'd replenished his stores of hangover potion. But surprisingly, when Severus entered his rooms, he heard the crack that signaled a house-elf's appearance. And by the elf's odd collection of clothing, this was Dobby, the former Malfoy elf that Harry had freed.

"Dobby is having a note for Professor Snape, sir!" the elf chirped, holding out a piece of parchment.

"From whom?" Severus asked curiously, taking the note. Anyone who had wanted to talk to him could have done so moments ago in the Great Hall.

The elf's ears drooped slightly. "Dobby is not saying, sir. Dobby is promising not to tell. Dobby will be shutting his head in the oven if he must."

Severus remembered the Malfoys used to make Dobby punish himself if he did wrong. "That won't be necessary, Dobby. I may have a response. Will you wait?"

The elf brightened at once. "Of course, sir! Professor Snape is very kind to be asking Dobby. Dobby will be waiting all night if he must!"

"That… won't be necessary either. Wait here." Severus went into his lab, closing the door behind him. He sat at a worktable and unfolded the note, unable to suppress a smile at the familiar handwriting inside.

_S-_

_We started the first phase of the plan today. I can't say that I liked it; I was too busy thinking of you. He doesn't kiss _half_ as well as you do. And I know it's stupid, but I couldn't help but feel like I was cheating the entire time. Please reply with something properly biting about my foolish lion sense of loyalty._

_I miss you. I wish I could go see you, but I'll have to content myself with a note. Reply soon, okay?_

_-H_

The irritability Severus had felt all day just fell away as he read Harry's note. Tension he hadn't realized he'd been feeling melted out of his muscles. _See_, a part of him seemed to say, _you had nothing to worry about_.

Taking out a fresh piece of parchment and a quill, Severus penned his reply.

* * *

Random note: I've had Lady Gaga's "Beautiful Dirty Rich" stuck in my head the past two days, so I'd like to dedicate the song to Draco Malfoy. Because he is.

_Daddy I'm so sorry, I'm so s-s-sorry, yeah_  
_We just like to party, like to p-p-party, yeah_

_Bang, Bang.  
We're beautiful and dirty rich_


	12. Chapter 12

Happy early Easter/Passover/Spring Solstice! The 'rentals have called upon me to bake so I won't have time to write this weekend. Zucchini brownies, cookies and cream mousse pie (named mush pie by my brother), and possibly foccacia bread. Yum! So I give you your third, yes third, update in a week.

* * *

_Brat-_

_I cannot fathom why you would waste my time asking me to assuage your guilt over doing something I asked of you. Common sense would dictate that the only reason to feel guilt would be if you had somehow failed to complete the task. Judging from the contents of your note, I can only assume that you did not. Ergo, only a complete idiot would feel guilty. But then, there can't be any room for anything else in that thick skull of your's with your foolishly irrational sense of loyalty._

_There. Was that sufficiently acerbic?_

_Truth be told, however, I find myself grateful to read the contents of your note. I knew what was planned, of course, and I found myself distinctly displeased at the prospect. I may have taken that displeasure out on those… undeserving. While I am contented with the fact that my displeasure is shared, we must endure this as best we can. We will do what we must to survive._

_Always your's,_

_S_

Harry felt warm as he read over Severus' reply. It was hard sometimes to remember that the professor wasn't as unflappable as he always seemed- a hallmark of a good spy, he supposed- but it was comforting to hear he wasn't the only one uncomfortable with this arrangement. And the way Severus had closed the note gave Harry warm, fuzzy feelings in the pit of his stomach.

Although Harry wanted nothing more than to respond, he put it carefully away in special box the twins had given him for his birthday. The box was charmed to look completely uninteresting to the viewer (Ron saw a case of Potions supplies, whereas Hermione saw a box of Quidditch cards) and the lock would only open to the owner's- in this case, Harry's- magical signature. It was one of the more useful products to have come out of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Harry stroked the parchment of the letter fondly one last time before closing and locking the box. He'd barely finished hiding it away in the depths of his trunk when Ron came running into the dormitory. "Harry, mate, where were you at dinner?"

"I was, ah, busy." He and Malfoy had agreed to be as vague as possible on that topic. They couldn't exactly claim to have been together in case someone had seen them going to their respective Houses, but they wouldn't deny it, either.

Ron paced at the foot of Harry's bed, clearly agitated. "Busy with what?"

"Why don't you ask what's really on your mind, Ron?"

Ron raked a hand through his hair restlessly. "Look, it's just Parvati and Lavender were telling the most _ridiculous_ stories about you. You'll laugh, really." He laughed nervously as though to prove his point.

"Ron-"

"I mean, I know they sometimes get the facts wrong and all, what with the way they gossip and all, but they've never out and out lied before, saying they saw it and all, when we all _know_ it's impossible-"

He was babbling, and hoping to get him back on track, Harry said his name with a little more force. "Ron-!"

"They said they saw you and Malfoy. _Snogging_," Ron blurted, looking as though the words put a bad taste in his mouth. He forced another little laugh, although Harry noted he was very carefully not looking in the brunet's direction. "Can you imagine Harry? As if anyone would believe that-"

"Ron, they were telling the truth."

Ron stopped pacing suddenly, his head snapping around to gape at Harry in shock. "Y-you- you're- you're pulling a prank, aren't you, and you've got Lavender and Parvati helping. Haha, Harry, very funny."

"It's not a joke, Ron." Harry watched his friend carefully. "Draco and I are seeing each other."

Ron's eyes widened and his mouth worked soundlessly. Harry could see him mouth the word _Draco_. "I- you're not _queer_- what about Cho-?"

"The term's bisexual Ron, and yes, I am."

Ron's face went white, his freckles standing out in stark relief. "You never _said_-"

"No. I didn't realize myself until recently." And wasn't that the unabashed truth; until the day Severus had kissed him, Harry would have sworn he was straight. "Look Ron, I wanted to tell you the truth, but Draco-"

"_Don't say that name!_" Harry stopped, startled by his friend's reaction. Ron was practically seething. "He's done something to you, enchanted you. Given you a love potion. Merlin knows why, but this isn't _you_, Harry. I _know_ you. You're not- you're not-" He stopped, unable to say it.

"I know what I am, Ron," Harry said gently. "I'm sorry if you can't accept it, but I like blokes and I'm with Draco-"

There was a searing pain across Harry's jaw and the force of it knocked him off his bed and onto the floor. He looked up at Ron in shock; he hadn't even seen the redhead swing. But Ron was standing over him, fists clenched, fairly vibrating with anger. The skin over the knuckles of his right hand had been split and were just starting to bleed sluggishly. Harry wondered distantly if Ron's fist had caught on his teeth. "All these years," Ron hissed, his voice venomous. "All these years and not a damned word. I invited you over my _house_, let you sleep in my _room_."

"Ron, I-"

Harry saw it coming this time, but was no more able to stop Ron's fist from connecting, this time to his stomach. "_Shut up!_ You fucking little _pervert_." Now to his ribs, another to his face. In the back of his mind, Harry wondered why he didn't fight back. Ron had him pinned to the floor, his wand out of reach on his night table, but Harry didn't even _try_ to defend himself. He kept hoping this was all just a bad dream.

"Kept quiet all this time so you could keep watching us, didn't you?" Ron snarled. "Watch us change in the morning, in the showers, in the Quidditch locker rooms. Merlin, I bet you liked that, didn't you, Harry? Us all sweaty and dirty from practice-"

"_Ron!_" Two sets of hands were pulling Ron off of him. Harry looked up blearily to see Dean and Seamus holding Ron, looks of horror on their faces. Neville was standing in the doorway, looking pale.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing, Ron?" Dean demanded, giving Ron a little shake. "That's _Harry_. Whatever it is, he's your best mate-"

"Not anymore!" Ron spat, and Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. "I'm not friends with some queer that kept it secret so he could perv on me."

Seamus' face went white. "You beat him up because he fancies blokes?" he asked calmly, quietly. Harry felt a sudden rush of pity for Seamus; it must have been hard for his roommate to keep quiet all this time, all the while knowing that they might not accept him if he told the truth. Seamus could have easily been the one lying on the floor right now with his eye swelling shut.

"That's right! And I'm going to McGonagall. I don't want a queer in my dorm."

"Too bad for you, Ronnie-boy," Seamus said in that same calm, quiet voice, "that there's more than one."

Ron nearly gagged, snatching his arm away. "You never said-"

"And that was a smart decision, I think," Dean said coolly, "considering what you did to your best mate."

Ron stumbled back towards the door, finally spotting Neville. "Nev," he said in a pleading voice, "he's dating _Malfoy_."

"He could be dating Firenze." Neville's face was still pale, and his voice was small but firm. "Harry's my friend. I just want him to be happy."

"Go to McGonagall, Ron," Dean said, his voice heavy with scorn, "and tell her what a damned coward you are." Ron's eyes darted between the three of them- he wouldn't look at Harry- for a moment before he spun on his heel and raced out the door.

"Harry, you okay, mate?" Dean and Seamus knelt beside Harry with concern on their faces. Neville was rummaging in his trunk for something.

"Yeah, yeah. He just… surprised me."

"No wonder," Dean said darkly. "I certainly didn't expect that of him."

"Here, Harry." Now Neville was kneeling down, holding out some sort of green, viscous substance. "It's a poultice. It'll keep down swelling and help heal the bruising. Professor Sprout taught me how to make it, since I always seem to need it." He dabbed some around the eye that was swelling shut, and Harry could feel the cool tingles that he'd long since come to associate with healing magic.

"That's brilliant, Nev. Thanks."

"You should go to Madam Pomfrey, though," Neville said, spreading some more on places that Harry hadn't realized had been hurting. "Some of these look quite bad." Harry winced and Neville drew back sharply. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, it's just…" Harry drew a deep, shuddering breath. "It was _Ron_." It wasn't some Death Eater that had hurt him, or some mad Ministry witch, but his best friend and the closest thing Harry had ever had to a brother. And all because Harry was dating a bloke, because he thought Harry was dating Malfoy. He could have never told Ron the truth; Ron would never have accepted Harry's relationship with Severus. And that hurt worse than the bruises.

Dean laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry. It was foul of him to act that way."

"You don't care? None of you care that I'm with Draco?"

"It's like Neville said, innit?" Seamus said at his other side. "So long as you're happy, it doesn't matter who you're with."

Harry knew they might say something else if they knew the truth, but for now Harry felt a surge of happiness at his roommate's words. He grasped Seamus' hand. "Thank you."

"I'm not all that chuffed to find you lied to me," Dean said with a grin that belied his words. "But I suppose I can understand why. Harry Potter with Son of a Death Eater! I can see the headlines now." Suddenly he frowned. "Well don't I feel like a right prat now."

Harry blinked at him. "Why?"

"I said dating Malfoy was a sign of desperation."

"Hey!" Seamus swatted his friend. Dean only ducked, laughing, and a grinning Neville continued applying the poultice. Harry was torn halfway between laughter and tears. He might have lost his friendship with Ron for good, but it seemed he had closer friends than he had ever realized.

* * *

Harry was confused when he woke up sore the next morning. Only when he felt the tenderness in his jaw did he remember what happened, his heart sinking. He glanced over at Ron's bed, but it didn't look like the other boy had slept in it.

"Harry, you up mate?" Dean peeked around the curtains that Harry had forgotten to close last night. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a giant bruise," Harry admitted, wincing as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Dean watched him, the concern clear on his face. "You should go to the Hospital Wing. Neville's poultice helped, but you still look terrible."

Harry reached out for his glasses and gasped as a sharp pain lanced through his ribs. Ron had probably bruised them, too. Who knew he was so strong? "That might be a good idea."

"Get dressed. I'll let Seamus know I'm taking you."

"Dean, you don't have to…" Harry trailed off at the look on Dean's face.

"I know you, Harry. You wouldn't agree to go to the Hospital Wing unless you were in real pain. I'll go with you and make sure you don't pass out in the corridor." He handed Harry his glasses. "Get dressed."

Once they got to the Hospital Wing, they were both surprised to hear a familiar voice talking to Madam Pomfrey. A voice that made Harry want to melt.

"It's no trouble, Poppy," the voice was saying. "I had a detention last night, and I was quite bored with watching him scrub cauldrons. I knew you were running low…"

"Well, thank you anyway, Severus. Now if you'll excuse me, it seems I have another patient." Madam Pomfrey poked her head around the screen she'd been behind. "Mr. Potter! What have you done to yourself this time?" She approached him with brisk steps, holding his chin in her hands so she could examine his face. "Been fighting, have you? I do hope it wasn't with Mr. Malfoy."

"No," Harry said quietly. "No it wasn't with him."

She must have heard something in his voice because she didn't ask further. Looking up at Dean she said, "Thank you for bringing him here, Mr. Thomas. You may go to breakfast now."

"I'll wait for Harry," Dean started to say, but Harry shook his head as best he could with Madam Pomfrey still holding his chin.

"It's alright, Dean. Go on to breakfast and save me some bacon."

Dean hesitated briefly, but he nodded and left. Madam Pomfrey examined his face once more, clucking in concern. "Well you've done a number on yourself this time, Mr. Potter, but these have started to heal. When did this happen?"

"Last night. Neville had a poultice."

Madam Pomfrey nodded approvingly. "He did a good job of it, but I assume these aren't the only reason you're here."

"No, my ribs-"

"Off with your shirt and allow me to see."

Harry complied, part of him wondering if Severus was still behind the screen. He'd sent Dean away because he had hoped they might be able to steal a moment alone.

Madam Pomfrey murmured a quick diagnostic spell and nodded once. "Bruised ribs, Mr. Potter. Honestly, I do wish you'd take better care of yourself. I see you in here much too often."

"Sorry Madam Pomfrey."

She clucked again. "I'll give you a few potions for the pain and the bruising. You'll have to be careful of those ribs for the next few days. No Quidditch until I say so, understand?" Harry nodded. "Now, I want you to _lie down_ after you drink your potions, and stay there until I tell you it's alright to leave." Harry obediently sat down on a nearby cot, and Madam Pomfrey shook her head, going back behind the screen to fetch the potions. "It seems we'll need these sooner than expected, Severus." Harry's heart beat a bit faster.

"What's Potter done to himself now?"

"Bruised ribs," she replied perfunctorily. "Would you mind sitting with him until these have a chance to work? I wouldn't ask you, but I have other patients, and Mr. Potter does have a tendency of not doing what he's told." Harry grinned. She probably said that because she realized he could hear her.

"Anything you ask, Poppy. I have experience with Potter's deliberate disobedience myself."

They both emerged from behind the screen, Madam Pomfrey holding a goblet that Harry presumed held his potions. "Drink," she said, handing him the goblet, "and then lie down for half an hour. Professor Snape has agreed to make sure you don't move before hand, understand?"

Harry nodded meekly. "Yes Madam Pomfrey." He drained the goblet and made a face, handing it back to her. At her pointed look, he laid down on the cot and she nodded, drawing the screen for privacy.

"Your potions taste awful," Harry said matter-of-factly when she'd gone.

Severus' only response was to point his wand at the screen. "_Muffliato_."

"What's that?" Harry asked curiously.

"A variance of a silencing spell only less… obvious."

"I've never heard of it before."

"I should imagine not. It's a spell of my own creation." Severus gabbed his shoulders roughly. "_What happened_?"

"I- it's nothing, really. It's like Madam Pomfrey said, I got into a fight."

Severus' eyes were searching, boring deep into Harry's skin. "A fight," he repeated in a terribly calm voice. "And yet you have no defensive wounds on your hands. Tell me _what happened_."

"Ron-" Harry's throat closed up before he could say anything more. Instead he reached up and clung to Severus.

The man's hands moved down to Harry's back, stroking and soothing. "I'm sorry," he said as Harry buried his face in Severus' chest. "I wouldn't have asked this of you if I knew it would cause you this much pain."

"'S all right." Harry's voice was muffled as he relaxed into the familiar warmth. "Not your fault." Harry looked up, something suddenly occurring to him. "Ron was the one you had in detention, wasn't he? He never came back last night."

"If I had known _why_ he was out wandering after curfew, I would have set him a more onerous task," Severus growled.

"I don't know. Scrubbing cauldrons was never very pleasant. Especially with you looming over." Harry settled back down on the cot and raised an eyebrow. "Tell me, by those 'undeserving' did you mean first years?"

"Third years, actually. Hufflepuffs."

"Sadist. I hope you didn't make any of them cry."

"Harry, don't try to change the subject. What Weasley did is unacceptable-"

Harry pushed his hair out of his face in a frustrated manner. "You think I don't know that? Sorry, but I thought _I_ was the one who got beat up last night."

"So why did you do nothing? No defensive wounds, no sign you fought back, and no report to McGonagall. It is almost as if you are defending Weasley's actions."

"I'm not! It's just… it's _Ron_. He's my best mate. Or he was." Harry's eyes burned and he blinked rapidly. He shook his head. "I don't know. Everything's gone on its head. I have you, and Malfoy and I are practically friendly, and Ron hates me, and I don't know what Hermione's going to say, and…" He shut his eyes. "I just don't know."

A warm hand pressed against his cheek. "I would take this pain from you if I could." Severus' voice was cool as silk, and Harry could almost feel it caressing him. "You wouldn't be feeling it if it weren't for me."

Harry sighed and leaned into the hand. "It's okay. We just have to endure, right?"

"Yes." A thumb caressed his cheekbone. "If you'd like, I'll have the house-elves bring you something so you can skip breakfast."

"No. I have to face them sometime. Might as well be now."

Severus nodded and pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead before removing his hand. "Rest now. You still have some time before you can leave."

"Stay with me?"

"Always."

* * *

Author's note: Drama, an angst garnish, and a side-dish of fluff. Enjoy your Easter dinner! Imaginary chocolate eggs for my reviewers!


	13. Chapter 13

Hey guys, I'm back. Didn't forget about you. The chapter's a little short (why is it every time I go on hiatus, I give you a short chapter), but I've had a shit-tastic last few weeks, and I need some review love. Of course, if you have a critique, please don't hesitate.

* * *

Ron wasn't in the Great Hall when Harry finally made it there. Neither was Hermione, although that wasn't very surprising; breakfast was almost over, and Hermione always made it a point to be early to classes. Still, Harry was a bit disappointed that she hadn't waited for him. It was torture waiting to see whether or not his other best friend would abandon him as well.

Malfoy, however, _was_ waiting for him and was the portrait of a concerned boyfriend. "Harry!" The blond fussed over him, ostensibly checking for injuries. "Are you alright? Finnegan told me you were in the Hospital Wing."

"I'm fine, Draco. Really. It was just a couple of bruises." Harry looked around the Hall. It was about half empty, but there were more than enough students there to spread the story further. And they all seemed willing to, watching Malfoy and Harry with rapt attention.

Malfoy's grey eyes flashed convincingly. "When I see that Weasel, I'll…" he trailed off, shaking his head, apparently unable to come up with a threat vile enough. "_Nobody_ treats my boyfriend like that and gets away with it."

"It's not worth it, Draco. Please, just let it go."

"You're too noble for your own good," Malfoy said in an exasperatedly fond voice. He reached up to brush Harry's hair out of his face, and Harry had to consciously restrain himself from flinching away from the intimate contact. "But he _hurt_ you. I can't just forgive that."

"I'm not asking you to forgive, just to…forget." Harry spared another glance towards their captivated audience. "Please? For me? I just want to put it behind me, okay?"

Malfoy's face visibly softened- Harry couldn't help but be impressed by the Slytherin's acting skills- and he wrapped his arms around Harry. Out loud he said, "You damned manipulator. I'll do it, but only because you asked." Putting his lips close to Harry's ear, he hissed, "You're surprisingly marvelous at this. Tell me again why you aren't in Slytherin?"

"Because I don't seem to be having as much fun as you are."

"Just playing the game, Potter. It's what makes me effective."

They pulled apart when a throat was cleared nearby. Dean and Seamus were standing there, Seamus looking rather uncomfortable and Dean holding a napkin with toast and- Harry smiled- bacon. "We should be getting to Charms, Harry," Dean said. He offered the napkin. "I saved you some breakfast."

"Thanks, Dean." Harry looked awkwardly between his friends and Malfoy. He didn't exactly need to introduce them, but he felt the need to say _something_. "Err…"

"Harry and I are dating, so you'd best get used to it," Malfoy supplied helpfully. He placed a quick kiss against Harry's lips. "I'd best be going, too. I'll see you at lunch?" At Harry's affirmative, Malfoy nodded politely to Dean and Seamus and left.

There was an awkward silence between the three Gryffindors for a moment before Seamus shook his head. "That's going to take some getting used to."

"Is it weird for you?" Harry asked as they headed towards the Charms corridor.

"Harry, it's weird for the entire _school_."

Harry made a face. "You know what I mean."

"I know." Seamus cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "I guess so. I mean, Malfoy and I didn't work for a reason, so it's not like I'm jealous or anything. He's just not the type I ever saw you with, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I know exactly what you mean."

Seamus hesitated briefly. "Harry, mate, just want to warn you, Malfoy's not exactly a believer in monogamy."

"If he cheats on you, we'll hex him so he can't ever get it up again," Dean added matter-of-factly.

"Thanks Dean. And thanks for the warning, Shay, but you don't have to worry about it." Especially since Harry didn't particularly care if Malfoy cheated on their fake relationship.

Seamus looked troubled. "So long as you're aware, Harry."

They reached the Charms classroom then, Harry's heart squeezing painfully when he saw a familiar red head of hair sitting with Lavender and Parvati.

"Harry?" Hermione approached him almost timidly, and Harry felt another pang. "I heard what happened. Are you all right?"

"We'll save you a seat, mate." Dean clapped him on the shoulder before leaving with Seamus to get a table.

"Yeah, Hermione. I'm fine."

Hermione glanced briefly towards Ron. "I can't believe he would do that." She sounded aghast. "I know Neville had no reason to lie, but I kept hoping he was." She shook her head. "But why didn't you _tell_ us, Harry?"

"Considering the welcome that news got, it's a good thing I kept it secret."

Hermione paled. "Why didn't you tell _me_? You know I wouldn't do that to you, Harry. I'd never reject you because of that."

Although those were the words Harry wanted to hear, it somehow didn't make him feel better. "I don't have to tell you everything, Hermione. I am allowed to have some secrets."

"Harry-"

"Look, I did what I had to do, okay? And I did it to keep us _safe_. I couldn't risk anyone finding out or I'd lose him."

"So why are you telling people now?" Hermione asked, and Harry felt momentarily confused. He hadn't been talking about Malfoy.

"He wrote his parents to tell them. After that, it didn't matter who knew." It was the story they had agreed upon. If Draco hadn't wanted Lucius to find out, they would have kept the relationship secret. Once he wrote to Lucius to tell him it was impossible for Harry to be in a relationship with Severus since Draco was dating Harry, the secret was out. This way Lucius wouldn't be suspicious that they started openly dating after his letter.

"So you let the whole school know before us?"

"That was an _accident_. You're just angry that there was something going on under your nose that you didn't know about." Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "This isn't about me or Ron or Draco, this is about you having to know everything. Well, you _don't _know everything, all right?" He made to turn and walk to his desk, but Hermione grabbed his wrist.

"Harry, stop it. Stop pushing me away." Her eyes were bright with tears, but her mouth was firm. "You're afraid that if I had to choose between you and Ron that you'd lose, so you're taking that choice away from me."

"I don't want to make you choose." Harry suddenly felt weary. Of course Hermione was right, as always, even though Harry hadn't really been aware of it. She and Severus had a disconcerting amount of things in common. He dropped his voice. "You like Ron, don't you? I don't want to ruin that for you."

Hermione's mouth twisted. "I'm not quite sure I like him so much anymore. Look, I don't want to lose either of you, Harry. But if someone," she glanced over towards Ron, "made me choose, well, you've done nothing wrong." She smiled, if a bit tremulously. "Next time just tell me before the gossip twins do, okay?"

Harry hugged her hard. "I will, 'Mione. I promise."

Hermione held him just as tightly. "Malfoy, huh? This is going to take a bit of getting used to."

Harry laughed into her hair. She had no idea.

* * *

Harry wasn't quite sure how they found out, but during the post the next morning, Ron received a Howler from Mrs. Weasley, three sternly worded reprimands from Charlie, Bill, and Mr. Weasley, and a hexed note from the twins that not only stuck him to the bench for the duration of Mrs. Weasley's rant (ensuring the entire Hall was able to hear it), but caused the words "world's greatest git" to hover, sparkling, over his head. Ron, face violently red, ran from the Hall as soon as he was able, the words creating a streak of brightly colored light following him.

Harry received post from the various Weasleys as well, although his were more apologetic, asking after his health and outraged over what had happened. Fred and George also apologized, but for the "lameness" of their prank, saying it was the best they could do on short notice, and they promised to come up with something more creative, and gosh, we can't believe you're actually dating _Malfoy_ but he must have become less of a prat if you like him though if he hurts you, we'll have no compunctions testing out new products on him. Harry smiled- he could almost hear them saying it out loud, interrupting each other and finishing each other's thoughts. The other Weasleys were generally supportive, glad that Harry had found someone, but like Hermione, disappointed that Harry hadn't felt able to tell them directly. Only Mr. Weasley warned Harry to be careful around the Malfoys, but said he trusted Harry's judgment.

While Harry read over his letters, Ginny sat down in front of Harry and leveled him a stern look. "Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded.

"Gin-"

"I understand you not wanting to snitch to McGonagall, but honestly Harry, I would have made sure he got what he deserved. I did grow up with Fred and George, after all."

Harry blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry, what are we talking about?"

"Ron!" she snarled. "Of all the low things he could have done-"

Harry blinked again. "Ginny-"

"It's not that I'm exactly pleased you're dating Malfoy," she interrupted. "I don't like him, and that's certainly not going to change over night. And I'm not going to pretend that the whole thing isn't a bit weird. It'll take some getting used to." Harry couldn't help but grin at the line. "But you're still _Harry_. Really, it's not worth losing over five years of friendship."

"Thanks Ginny," Harry said sincerely. "It's weird for everyone. I understand."

"Good." She reached over and plucked a piece of bacon from his plate. "Now, you'd best reply to Mum before she comes storming the castle. Same for Fred and George," she added thoughtfully. "Not that I mind them giving Ron what he deserves, but it is my OWLs year and I'd like to be able to do _some_ work."

Harry grinned and ducked his head obediently to pen his replies to the various Weasleys. It still pained him to lie to them- they were his adoptive family and he wished dearly he could tell them the truth about Severus. But their easy acceptance of his fake relationship with Malfoy (Mrs. Weasley even asked Harry to bring him over for dinner some time so they could be properly introduced- Harry couldn't help but laugh at the thought) gave him heart that when he was out of school, when Voldemort was dead, when the war was over, that they would accept the truth. Still, that seemed such a very long time away, and Harry felt suddenly weary from all the lying and the fighting and the subterfuge.

He gave Hedwig his replies and stood from the table. "I'm going for a walk." He shook his head when Seamus made to rise as well. "Thanks Shay, but I just need some time to think before class, okay? I'll see you at Herbology this afternoon."

Harry made his way out towards the lake and did feel a bit better in the sunlight and fresh air. It was a bit too cold to be outside without his cloak, but Harry didn't much mind. The cold was sharp and refreshing, and besides, he didn't have that long to dawdle before Potions.

He groaned, leaning his back against the stone of the castle wall. Potions. With Severus teaching and pretending to hate him and Draco Malfoy pretending to love him. This morning so did not promise to be fun.

"Harry Potter, sir? Dobby is having another note for Harry Potter." Harry felt a pang when he looked over at the elf and saw him wearing Ron's maroon jumper. Dobby held out the note, but there was concern in his big eyes. "Dobby is hearing Harry Potter had a fight with his Wheezy. Dobby is hearing that Harry Potter was hurt by his Wheezy." The elf's ears drooped and his mouth trembled. "Dobby was thinking that Harry Potter and his Wheezy were great friends and the Wheezy was being a noble man. Is this being true, Harry Potter, sir?"

Harry mustered up a smile. "Ron and I had a fight, yes, but it's no big deal, really Dobby." He took the note, feeling no less terrible about lying to Dobby as well, but there was no point in worrying the little elf with the truth. "You'll wait for an answer?"

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir." Dobby sounded vaguely affronted that Harry had even asked.

"Thanks Dobby. You're a good friend for doing this." Dobby perked up at that.

_Please tell me you have a good reason for running out of the Hall, breakfast half-eaten, you little terror._

There was no signature, but Harry didn't need to be told who had wrote this. Part of him felt badly that he'd worried Severus, but the other part was unaccountably pleased that Severus had been watching closely enough to be worried.

_I didn't _run_ out of the Hall_, Harry replied on the same piece of parchment. _I just needed some air. Today's going to be rough._ He paused a moment, quill poised above the parchment. He had to ask. _I want to see you tonight. Please?_

Dobby returned within moments. _I believe that can be arranged. You'll have to remember to play along. I do trust that's not too much of a stretch for your intellect. And you'll garner no sympathy from me should you catch a cold after 'getting some air' without your cloak, brat._

Harry shook his head, bemused. It was one thing to notice Harry leaving the Great Hall early, but quite another to notice he hadn't had his cloak. Severus' eye for detail was an amazing thing sometimes.

"Is Harry Potter sir wanting Dobby to bring a reply?"

For a moment, Harry had forgotten the elf's presence. "Err, no Dobby. Thanks."

"These notes are making Harry Potter sir smile. Dobby is being happy to be a part of that." With one last brilliant smile, the elf disappeared with a sharp crack.

Harry shook his head again. It was odd, but Dobby was the only one who knew the truth- well, he knew where the notes were coming from, anyway. Muttering a quick charm that he had learned fifth year to hide copies of the Quibbler from Umbridge, the ink on the parchment appeared to fade until it looked like Harry was holding a blank piece of parchment. He'd put this in the box with the other notes when he had time.

He pushed away from the wall with a sigh. No need being late to Potions. Severus was going to have to single him out enough as it was; he didn't have to give the man an excuse. Potions class was going to be difficult today, but Harry had the knowledge that he'd be able to see Severus tonight to help him through it, and that was all that mattered.

He wiped the smile from his face as well. No one needed to think Harry was happy to be heading to Potions.


	14. Chapter 14

Now that that's out of the way, I'm sorry for being gone for so long. First there were finals, and then there was graduation, and then there was moving out of my apartment, and then there was my cousin's wedding which I had to make the jewelery for, and then there was job hunting (still unsuccessful, ugggh), then there was the death of my crappy computer, then there was buying a new computer, then there was playing around with the new computer, and there was friend stuff and family stuff and an awful lot of baking and a massive case of writer's block. But I'm back now, and this chapter gave me no end of trouble, so while I know it's asking a lot after I abandoned you for so long, please be gentle?

Happier(ish) note, I created a livejournal account so that next time I can give you my excuses in real time. My username is truebluefool516, so look me up! Be warned, I don't really know what I'm doing. So any of you with lj experience may be called upon for help.

* * *

Malfoy was waiting with the rest of their class in front of their Potions room. He stepped forward at Harry's approach. "All right?" he asked, searching Harry's face. This was the hard part, they both knew.

Part of Harry wished that he could tell Malfoy what he really felt- an odd urge, but being as Harry's confidantes on this matter consisted solely of Malfoy, Severus, and Dobby, it was rather understandable- but he didn't dare with an audience. "I'm not really all that chuffed to hear what Snape will have to say."

There was an understanding in Malfoy's grey eyes that Harry didn't think was part of the act, even as he reached over to pat Harry's hand with a sympathetic sound. "Look on the bright side; at least now we don't have to pretend not to stare at each other lovingly over our steamy cauldrons."

"Who was pretending?"

Malfoy hit him lightly on the shoulder. "Unromantic prat."

The door to the classroom opened then, the previous class emptying out, looking relieved to have escaped. "Snape's been in a right mood lately," one girl was saying consolingly to her teary friend. "Your potion wasn't _that_ bad…"

Malfoy tucked his arm under Harry's. "It'll be _fine_. You just have to know how to _act_."

Harry didn't miss the subtle emphasis Malfoy put on that word. Act, right. It was all an act. An act that would keep Severus- and Malfoy, now that he was complicit- safe. And Harry just had to _play along_. He took a deep breath, steeling himself and allowed Malfoy to lead him into the classroom.

_I'll get to see him later_, Harry reminded himself firmly. _I just have to get through this and I'll get to see him._

"Well, well," the familiar voice said coolly, "if it isn't Mr. Malfoy and his newest… plaything." Harry forced himself to look up into that familiar face, staring defiantly as he might have only a year ago. The expression on that face was also reminiscent of that time that seemed so very long ago- mostly impassive, with just a hint of disdain, the beginning of a sneer curling around his mouth. Harry suddenly felt faint when he realized the amount of skill both Slytherin parties had brought to this charade. Harry couldn't _possibly_ measure up… surely someone would _notice_…

Malfoy squeezed his hand sharply, bringing Harry's focus back to the present. "Harry isn't my _plaything_, professor," Malfoy said, somehow managing to look down his nose at the taller man, "he's my _boyfriend_, and I would appreciate it if you would treat him as such."

There was a hushed silence in the classroom as all eyes were turned on the trio at the front of the room. "I see. Your boyfriend." Severus' voice dripped with contempt, and Harry had to remind himself sharply not to tremble. "How… adorable."

The sarcasm in Severus' voice seemed to suggest he found it anything but. However, Harry was pleased to have stumbled upon a role he felt quite comfortable playing- the ignorant Gryffindor.

"Why thank you, Professor," Harry said as brightly as he could manage. He looked over at Malfoy. "We _are_ rather adorable, aren't we?"

Harry could have sworn he saw a flash of approval in Severus' eyes before the man's face twisted into a look of pure disgust. He could also hear Malfoy choking back laughter. Harry couldn't help but feel relieved that he'd done _something_ right.

"Sit down," Severus snapped. "If you two interrupt my class further, I'll have you both in detention until graduation. Although hopefully by then, Mr. Malfoy will be quite over his little…" Severus' eyes raked over Harry, and while the rest of the class might only see the loathing written on his face, Harry could see the desire deep within those sharp, black eyes and felt his face start to heat up, "…perversion."

"_Perversion_-!" Harry spluttered, startled.

"I believe, Potter, you were told any further interruptions would warrant detention." Severus smiled maliciously. Because he knew it was expected of him, Harry opened his mouth to mutter something about fairness, but Severus interrupted him. "Disobey me again, Potter, and it will be a week's worth of detentions."

Harry was sorely tempted to say something further- an ironclad excuse to see Severus every night for a week was almost to good to pass up- but he knew it would be more in character to shut his mouth and glare hatefully.

"And please do sit in your customary seats," Severus added with a sneer. "I enjoyed my breakfast this morning and would very much like to keep it down."

Harry was rather relieved; it was one thing to put on a show with Malfoy, but quite another to have to sit with him for the entire Potions period and make nice, with Severus watching. Besides, Hermione was better at Potions anyway.

Hermione patted his arm sympathetically as he sat down beside her. "That was really unfair of him, Harry," she whispered to him as Severus put their instructions on the board. "I thought you said he'd gotten better this year."

"He has his moments."

Hermione gave him an odd look, but patted his hand again. "He's probably just as shocked as the rest of us. He's close with the Malfoys, right? It's probably weirder for him than the rest of us."

How Hermione could always hit so uncomfortably close to the mark was a mystery. "Trust me Hermione," Harry muttered as they set up their materials on their desk, "you have no idea."

* * *

Severus was angry with himself. Oh, their little performance this morning had gone wonderfully, of course… and that was half of the problem.

He'd been worried that they wouldn't be able to pull it off at first- well, truthfully he'd known that he and Draco would be more than capable. Harry had been the wild card, the unknown quantity. Gryffindors were predictable in their nobility and forthrightness; lying and manipulation didn't suit the Gryffindor mentality. Harry had always appeared to be the very portrait of the ideal Gryffindor, and Severus had worried what that would mean for their charade.

But the teen had performed beautifully, surprising him. Or maybe 'surprising' wasn't quite the term. 'Arousing' described it better, to the point where he had slipped and shown something of his own feelings. Severus truly doubted that anyone but Harry would have seen that slip- after all, he'd been performing in front of schoolchildren, not hardened Death Eaters ready to jump at any excuse to rip him apart- but he was still furious at himself. Now was not the time to let himself get soft, not when another slip like that could cost him his life.

Not to mention Harry's life. No, Severus couldn't allow such a slip to _ever_ happen again, low risk situation or no.

But this was a new situation. Hardened spy though he was, there hadn't been much call for Severus to suppress signs of arousal; though Harry might call him a sadist, the activities of the Death Eaters were hardly the sort of thing to inspire his arousal. Severus didn't mind the challenge, though. It kept him from becoming complacent in his ability.

Severus leaned back into his chair's embrace, tapping a finger against his lips contemplatively. Harry was constantly surprising him, and while that was something Severus found undeniably attractive, it was also very, very dangerous. The truth of the matter was that Harry was an emotionally damaged young man. People tended to forget- especially in the case of their lauded underage savior- that neglect was just as dangerous as abuse and harder to heal. It would be oh-so-very easy for Severus to lure the affection-starved boy into his bed and just as easy to keep Harry there, willing and eager, for as long as Severus wanted him. But if Severus gave into that temptation, he'd more than likely lose the tantalizing young man Harry was becoming, a heady mixture of Slytherin and Gryffindor traits. Severus knew he wanted that young man more than a slavish bed partner, but the closer Harry came to being that young man, the harder the temptation was to resist.

_Damn Albus for not intervening in the boy's life_, Severus thought with a scowl. _He needn't have even taken Harry away, if he had just let those Muggles know they were being watched, threatened to show up on their stoop in purple robes, _anything._ Harry didn't need to spend his childhood suffering. Why didn't he _do_ anything?_

It wasn't the first time Severus had asked himself that question, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. All his life, Albus Dumbledore had been a twinkling, benevolent presence, a source of sickening kindness and most exasperating wisdom, and a great protector. But he had failed to protect a child he admitted to watching closely, a child he claimed to love, and if the prophecy was to be believed, the most important child their kind had ever spawned. He'd put Harry's life at risk, and Severus didn't think he could ever forgive his old mentor for that offense.

"That's a scary face you're making." Severus looked up to see Harry closing the office door behind him. "I knocked, but you didn't answer. You must have been really lost in thought. And by that look on your face, about something seriously unpleasant."

"And as you can guess, I am glad to have a reason to stop thinking about it." He studied Harry's face thoroughly. "What happened this morning?" Severus' eyes narrowed. "Was it Weasley again? I shall have him scrubbing the dungeon floors until the date of his graduation-"

Harry smiled, although Severus couldn't help but note it was a bit weak. "Has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit overprotective?"

"And you are trying to change the subject."

Harry sighed. "I suppose I should know better by know, shouldn't I?" He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I just wanted to see you, okay? Is that so wrong?"

One of the reasons Severus had been so pleasantly surprised that morning was that he had always observed Harry as a terrible liar. His tells were always painfully obvious to anyone with half a brain. But perhaps he was only a horrible liar in private. "No, that isn't wrong," Severus stood from his chair and walked over to Harry, taking the teen gently by the shoulders, "but we both know that isn't the only reason."

Instead of answering or pulling away, as Severus might have expected him to, Harry stepped closer and leaned heavily against the older man. "Why does everything in my life have to be so hard?" he asked instead.

Severus rubbed the teen's shoulder soothingly. "I could offer you platitudes," he said. "I could tell you that life isn't easy, or that anything worth having is worth fighting for, or that it always seems like the world is out to get you when you're 16, but-"

"-the world really is out to get me?" Harry mumbled into his robes.

"In a manner of speaking." Severus' fingers threaded through Harry's hair. "Your life was destined to be difficult from the moment I overheard that prophecy."

"I don't blame you," Harry said quickly

"Even so, the fact remains that you, Harry Potter, will never be able to live a normal life until this war ends, if even then."

Making a face, Harry looked up at Severus. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, it's to make you understand. You can never live a normal life _as Harry Potter_. But if you asked it of me, I could spirit you away, take you underground, give you a new name and face, so that no Death Eater could ever bother you again." He cupped Harry's cheek, looking deep into those green eyes. "We could run away together, somewhere far from all the fighting and the madness, away from the death and the lying, and just _live_. And if that is what you truly want, Harry, I would give it to you in a heartbeat."

"That sounds nice," Harry admitted, closing his eyes and leaning into Severus' hand. "I want that, I do, but…"

"But?" Severus prompted.

"I can't leave. I can't ignore everything that's going on here, everything that people have sacrificed to keep me safe, all of my friends that would be in danger. Besides, he's never going to stop looking for me, is he?"

"No. No he isn't." Severus brushed the hair away from Harry's face. "But I swear to you that I would do everything in my power to keep him from you."

Harry's eyes turned hard. "So you'd die for me? Like my parents did? Like Sirius? No. I'm not letting you risk your life to make mine a little easier." He raised his hands to clutch at Severus' own. "I don't think I could live in a world without knowing you're in it somewhere, alive and snarky."

The corners of Severus' lips twitched. "Feeling better?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "I… yeah, actually. You sneak, you did that on purpose."

"It is easier to do what you must when you remember exactly what is at stake." Severus kissed the inside of Harry's wrist. "Though, I must say I am flattered to have such a stalwart protector."

Harry's face flushed. "Well, I thought you meant it."

"I did. I meant every single word, Harry." The near-smile slipped from his lips as he stepped away from the young wizard. "I can't go back and change what I did the night I overheard the prophecy. I can't stop the Dark Lord from murdering your parents, and I can't stop Dumbledore from placing you with those loathsome relatives of your's, but should you ever want me to, Harry, I will shield you from the consequences of that choice I made. I owe you at least that much."

"Do you ever stop hating yourself?"

Severus couldn't help it; he looked at Harry in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

Harry huffed in an exasperated manner. "You keep going on and on about how you're this horrible person and how bad you are for me. You keep apologizing for all the shit that bitch King is putting us through, and you're trying to make amends for a single mistake you made before I was born. And then there's that damn portrait that you should get rid of but sits out in the open in your sitting room, like you're punishing yourself." Harry crossed his arms. "And you think _I _need therapy?"

"I don't expect you to understand, Harry-"

The teen snorted. "Try me. I get it, Severus. You thought the Death Eaters were your friends, that they accepted you. You felt like you belonged, maybe for the first time in your life. You think I don't understand that? You think if Malfoy hadn't been acting like such a pompous git the first time we met, that if he had extended the hand of friendship before Ron, that I would have minded so much when the Sorting Hat tried to put me in Slytherin?"

"The Sorting Hat tried to put you in Slytherin?" Severus asked, but to tell the truth, he wasn't all that surprised.

"Don't change the subject," Harry growled. "Joining the Death Eaters was stupid, but you were young, and people are stupid when it comes to their friends. And in the end, you did the right thing by going to Dumbledore."

"I did it for selfish reasons."

"It doesn't _matter_ why you did it. The fact is you did, and that should be enough. Being a spy for the Order should be enough. Saving my life should be enough. You don't have to do penance for every bad thing that has happened in my life since that night. You don't owe me a thing." He shrugged and gave a half-smile. "If anything, I'm the one who owes you, so how about we just say we're square and be done with it?"

Severus smiled and drew Harry close for a deep, lingering kiss. "I think I can live with that."

Harry looked up at him with dazed eyes and said, "God, I love you."

Severus froze, and Harry realizing what he said, paled. "I- I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"Harry, I-"

"You don't have to say it back," Harry interrupted quickly. "You don't even have to feel it, but I do and now you know and that's probably a good thing and please say something so I know you don't hate me."

"Of course I don't hate you." Severus ran his fingers across Harry's cheekbone and the line of his jaw. There was a long moment of silence between them. "I- you should probably go."

Severus couldn't miss the look of disappointment in Harry's eyes. "Right. Of course. I'll see you Monday, then?" Without waiting for an answer, Harry practically ran out of the office. Severus watched him go, feeling like a coward.


	15. Chapter 15

Those of you who have checked out my new livejournal (username: truebluefool516) know that I've been taking care of a friend's 18-month-old, so this chapter has been written during naptimes (I know I said I didn't have my computer, but I brought a notebook) and before I take a nap when I get home in the afternoon- he's adorable, but exhausting. So I've been really tired whenever I got the chance to write it. Please let me know if it shows.  


* * *

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Harry muttered to himself as he left Severus' office at a fast walk, hardly paying attention to where he was going. How could he have been so _stupid_?

Harry's classmates threw those words around like they were meaningless, like they meant no more than any other words. They said it about people they barely knew, to those they'd been dating for only a few weeks, and Harry had always shaken his head in dismay. Those three words- three oh-so small words- were the most profound words that existed. Telling another person _I love you_ meant so much more than that. It meant _you're everything to me_, and _I would do anything to protect you_, and _my life would be empty if you weren't in it_, and so many other things that Harry couldn't put into words.

And there remained the fact that nobody had ever said those words to Harry. At least, not since he was too young to remember.

Harry wasn't stupid. He knew that part of why those words were so profound to him was for that very reason, but that didn't mean they should be thrown around carelessly. And he knew, he _knew_, that Severus was the last person on earth who would do that. He _knew_ that if he ever told Severus how he felt that it was very unlikely that Severus would say it back. And Harry didn't mind it because saying those words meant so much to him. He could wait for the right moment, say it when they meant the most, explain to Severus what the words meant to him, and that that was the very reason why Harry understood if Severus didn't say it back.

Instead, he'd blurted it out like an idiot and then freaked out.

"God, I'm so _stupid_," Harry muttered again, burying his face in his hands.

"Not that I'm disagreeing," came a familiar drawl, "but what did you do _this_ time?"

Of course, like the idiot he was intent on playing, Harry had wandered straight into Malfoy. Yay.

"It's nothing. Just detention with Snape-"

"There's no one around Potter," Malfoy interrupted. "You don't have to pretend." He looked Harry over with a sharp eye. "Did you two have a fight?"

"It's none of your business, Malfoy."

"Actually, it is." Malfoy leaned against the stone of the wall, looking nonchalant. "If you two broke up, I don't have to pretend to like you anymore."

"We didn't break up." And then- because really, who else did he have to talk to?- Harry added, "I told him I loved him. It just sort of slipped out."

Malfoy's eyes went round. "Wow. That's vaguely creepy."

"Thanks. You're tons of help."

"What did he say?" Malfoy asked with- was Harry imagining it?- something like concern in his voice.

"He didn't say anything." Harry frowned. "Well, that's not completely true. I asked if he hated me, he said no, then said I should leave."

"Ouch." Malfoy winced sympathetically. "But not completely unexpected. He's not exactly a feelings sort of guy." He paused for a moment. "Look, Potter, I know I'll probably regret saying this, but he doesn't put up with shit he doesn't have to. Do you really think that if he didn't…" Malfoy made a face, "feel similarly, that he would be putting up with all of this?" He waved his hand vaguely. "_Especially_ if he's not getting any sex out of it?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Why are you so hung up on the sex thing?"

"Because I am a normal functioning wizard. And you certainly wouldn't catch me voluntarily putting up with your crap if I wasn't even getting any sex out of it."

"Well it's a good thing we don't have to worry about that," Harry retorted, "because I am certainly not having sex with _you_."

Malfoy covered his heart dramatically. "Ach, Harry. You wound me."

"You're such an ass," Harry said mildly, without the maliciousness he would have once put into that statement.

"So you _have_ noticed my ass, then?"

"Oi, could you two finish this in private?" They both turned to see Ron standing there, arms crossed, foot tapping belligerently. "I'd hate to see a first year traumatized by happening across your perversion in the hallway."

Malfoy casually slipped an arm around Harry's waist. "Tell the truth, Weasel. You're just scared of the funny feeling you get in your pants when you watch us together."

Ron's ears went red, but he ignored Malfoy with an effort Harry could clearly see, turning to his former best friend. "I don't understand you, Harry. How can you stand… _him_," Ron gestured violently towards Malfoy, "touching you? His father's a Death Eater, Harry. He tried to kill us."

"Draco isn't his father, Ron." Lucius Malfoy had been perfectly willing to sacrifice his friend to get back in Voldemort's good graces, while Draco had gone above and beyond the call of duty to protect the same man. For the first time, Harry could really appreciate what that meant. "It would be rather rich if I were to judge someone by their family members."

Harry could almost feel the question in Malfoy's thoughts- he really knew nothing about Harry's family- but the blond didn't ask it. Instead, he added snidely, "Besides, at least I don't attack my friends when I don't like who they're dating."

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron growled. "I'm still not completely sure that you didn't do something to him to make him think that he's a pervert like you-"

"Oh, cut the crap, Weasley. We all know that your brother's into blokes." Malfoy studied his fingernails absently as Ron gaped at him and Harry struggled not to do the same. "The big burly one that works with the dragons."

"Charlie?" Harry asked in surprise as Ron mouthed it wordlessly.

"Mhmm. That's the one."

"Y- you're a damn liar," Ron stammered.

Malfoy just smiled. "Came home this summer, didn't he? Spent a lot of time out on 'errands'?" The quotation marks were almost visible around that word.

Momentarily forgetting Ron, Harry turned to face Malfoy. "Are you saying that you and Charlie Weasley…?"

"Yes. So when I say that he's into blokes, I have firsthand knowledge." He patted Harry's cheek. "Not to worry, my dear. It was just a summer fling."

"Harry, he's _lying_," Ron snapped. "Can't you see that? Even if what he's saying about Charlie is true, d'you think Charlie would ever be with _him_?"

"And if Charlie told you it was true, would you punch him in the jaw too?" Harry asked coolly. "If your brother asked you to understand, needed you to accept him, would you call him a pervert and run out on him?" The arm around Harry's waist tightened briefly in a comforting manner.

To his credit, Ron flushed. "Look, Harry, I'm sorry I did that. I was angry that you hadn't told me that you were… you know. And to find out you're dating _Malfoy_ at the same time… I just sort of lost it." Ron shook his head.

"So you're fine with me being queer just so long as I don't date anyone?"

"Just as long as you don't date a Slytherin. Especially _that _Slytherin."

"Oh. Okay then." Harry shrugged. "So if I dump Draco we can be chums again? Heaven forbid if I start dating someone you don't approve of again. I may not survive next time."

"Harry, that's not what I-"

"Listen to me, Ron." Harry stepped away from Malfoy and closer to the red-haired teen. "I want you to understand something. It hurt me to lie to you. I hated it. There was nothing I wanted more than to confide in my best friend. And there were times when I almost told you the truth. I thought, 'he's Ron. He'll protect our secret. He won't tell anyone.'" Harry shook his head. "Do you understand that, Ron? I almost trusted you with the most important thing in my life. But now I'm glad that I didn't, because now I realize that you're only my best mate so long as I don't do anything to upset you. And that's not any kind of friendship, Ron."

"Are you really saying that _he's_ the most important thing in your life?" Ron asked incredulously.

Harry's heart sank. He'd hoped that what he said would mean something to Ron, would shame him, but of course Ron had only focused on the bit about Draco- well, about Severus, but luckily Ron didn't know that. He'd hoped that one day, maybe, he and Ron could salvage part of their friendship, but they couldn't. Not if Ron didn't understand what Harry was trying to say.

"Merlin, Weasley, we get it." Malfoy had stepped up behind Harry. "You're jealous." He placed his hand on Harry's back, between the shoulder blades.

"Now what the hell would I be jealous of, Malfoy? _You_?" The last was said with a snort of laughter.

"Yes," Malfoy said lightly, shutting Ron up. "I think you're jealous because I have Harry in a way you never will. A girl wouldn't threaten you because there would still be things you'd give him that she couldn't. But another guy- especially me- you think will not only usurp your position but be more to him than you ever could."

"I'm not in_ love_ with him-"

"Of course you aren't," Malfoy agreed genially. "It's far too unhealthy for love. It's possessiveness. You're like a child used to having a toy all to himself, and you'd rather break it than share it. You ask me, Harry's well rid of you."

"Listen to me, you smug bastard-"

"Ron, just go," Harry interrupted, feeling once again weary. "Please, just go away."

"You'd really choose him over me?"

"Yes, Ron," Harry snapped. "I choose my boyfriend over the supposed best mate who beat me up. Shocking, I know, but there it is. Now please leave, because I really can't stand anymore of your shit, all right?"

Ron opened his mouth as if to say something more, but closed it and turned on his heel to leave. Harry leaned heavily against the wall.

"Are you all right?" Malfoy asked, and this time there was no mistaking the concern in his voice.

"No," Harry replied shortly. "No, I'm not all right." He slid down the wall to sit on the floor, because he wasn't sure he had enough energy to stand.

"You remember in first year when I told you to choose your friends wisely and you chose Weasley over me? Bad move, that."

"Can you please save the gloating for another time? I'm not exactly in a mood to deal with your shit either right now."

But Malfoy sat down on the floor next to Harry. "So I guess this means you really are in love with him, huh? _The most important thing in my life_," he mimicked. "Merlin, could you Gryffindors be anymore disgustingly romantic?"

Harry rubbed his face tiredly. "Do we really have to do this right now? I'm sorry, I don't have a witty comeback for you."

"And that's different from normal, how?" At Harry's look, Malfoy sighed. "Lighten up, Potter. I'm just trying to make the mood a little less gloomy here."

"Why do you even care, Malfoy?"

Malfoy stretched his legs out across the castle floor. "Because I figure that if you're in a relationship with him, you can't be an _entirely_ loathsome piece of Gryffindor trash."

Harry snorted. "High praise," he muttered sarcastically.

"Indeed," Malfoy agreed. "Look, Potter, it's not that I didn't dislike you all these years- because trust me, I did- but as a Slytherin, if you don't act in an… expected manner, it will be used against you."

"So what about now?" Harry asked, curious in spite of himself. "I mean, us dating isn't exactly expected."

"No, but since it's the complete opposite, I can use it to my advantage. I have an opening while everyone else is trying to recoup their senses. It's not ideal, in any sense, but it's workable."

They sat in almost companionable silence for a few moments before something occurred to Harry. "What are you going to do this summer?"

"Well I haven't made any travel plans yet, of course."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Idiot. You know that's not what I meant. Your parents can't exactly be thrilled with this turn of events."

"That's where you're wrong, Potter. My father's over the moon about this." Harry looked over at the blond in shock when he didn't detect any hint of sarcasm. Malfoy offered him an expression that was halfway between a smile and a grimace. "You heard me right. He thinks I'm doing this because I'm a good little junior Death Eater eager to get our family back into the Dark Lord's good graces. Easier to hand you over if all I have to do is invite you over for dinner or something." Malfoy stared intently at the wall across from him. "I may have once intended to follow in my father's footsteps, but after this summer…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

Harry didn't ask him to elaborate. He could all too well imagine what punishments Voldemort would deem fitting for Lucius' failure in the Ministry. He hoped that Draco hadn't suffered too much on his father's behalf. "So where are you going to go this summer?"

"My godfather found me a place. Unplottable, Fidelius Charm, you know, all the bells and whistles. He'll be my secret keeper."

"I'm sorry," Harry said sincerely. "I didn't mean to drive you from your home."

"Don't be, Potter. I knew this summer was either run or be Marked. I had already planned on running. At least this way, I can be sure he's on _my _side and not my father's."

They sat in comfortable silence for another few moments until Harry finally had to ask, "So… you and Charlie? Was that true or did you just say it to upset Ron?"

"Must they be mutually exclusive?" Malfoy stretched his arms and put his hands behind his head. "It's true _and_ I said it to upset Weasley. And believe you me, Charlie wasn't exactly coy about his sexuality. In fact, _he_ came on to _me_."

"Really?" It was hard to imagine the reasonable, level-headed Charlie Weasley hitting on anyone, much less a Malfoy. But then, if any one of the Weasleys were likely to give Draco a chance, it _would _be Charlie.

"Really. I thought he was pulling some sort of prank at first, but he wore me down." And carefully not looking at Harry, he added, "And I'm glad he did."

Harry grinned- it felt good to smile.

* * *

Author's note: Yay bonding! Although I _am_ a fan of the Harry/Draco pairing, I think they work really well as buds- possibly because it reminds me of my dysfunctional relationship with my own bestie. They're just so cute together. And I've also decided I'm a fan of the Draco/Charlie pairing... if you couldn't tell. ^_^

If you noticed, Draco and Harry are being pretty clever when they talk about Severus. They never mention him by name. The closest they actually come is when Draco refers to him as "my godfather." They always refer to him as "he." Even though they are alone, they are out in the open and anyone could overhear- look at Ron. Although an eavesdropper might think it odd that Harry's talking to his boyfriend about some other guy he's in love with, there's nothing to link it with Severus. Even when Draco talks about his godfather, he does it in such a way to seem as though it's a different person.


	16. Chapter 16

Cupcakes, migraines, and emergency baby-sitting gigs.

* * *

Anastasia King had never been a particularly patient woman. She knew if she were ever to paint her self-portrait that that would be one of her more prominent flaws. She wanted what she wanted, when she wanted it and had a habit of getting it. Anyone who made her wait risked putting her into a foul mood- and you did not want to see her in a foul mood. In fact, there had been only one person in Anastasia's life who had been able to make her wait without serious repercussions, and that was because his moods were worse than her own.

Anastasia had come to Hogsmeade with a very specific goal in mind. She had laid out her plans carefully, and she had waited patiently, though it was very much against character. She had even swallowed her (considerable) pride and made nice with a man she had hoped to never see again. And yet it had all come to naught, which irked Anastasia to no end. If anything, her situation was even worse off than before. Now that Albus had effectively banned her from Hogwarts, her options had become exceedingly limited. Still, Anastasia was determined; the avenues left to her may have been less than savory, but she would take any path necessary to achieve the one thing that she had ever been denied. Tenacity was a trait that Anastasia truly admired, and she had it in spades.

Defeat was unacceptable, especially defeat at _his_ hands. Losing was a bitter pill that Anastasia refused to swallow. So with her head held high, she set down the road to the Hog's Head to meet with a man to whom she would have once turned up her nose.

Whatever the cost, whatever the consequences, Anastasia would do whatever she had to in order to get what she wanted, because in the end, she knew, it would be so very worth it.

* * *

The time between Harry's blurted confession and the next Monday night session seemed to both blur past and drag by achingly slow. That was probably because Harry both dreaded it and was desperate to get it over with. He'd screwed up royally; things were going to be awkward now and he hated that. He hated that he might have ruined one of the few truly good things he had in his life, just by admitting how he really felt.

It didn't help that Ron would no longer even look at him, or that Harry and Hermione rarely spoke anymore. While Hermione had tried to be accepting, it didn't help that Harry was supposedly dating the boy that had tormented her for years. Harry understood her feelings on the matter- had the situation been reversed, he wasn't sure he could have handled it with the same grace Hermione had- and gave her space. As disconcertingly perceptive as his friend always managed to be, that was probably a good thing, but it didn't make Harry's life any easier. He wanted nothing more than to confide in her, and while he thought he could trust his level-headed, Muggle-born friend, this whole debacle with Ron made him ever more wary. He wouldn't- couldn't- chance it.

Surprisingly enough, Harry was able to find solace from other venues. Seamus was always there to start a loud conversation about the Gryffindor team's chances at the House Cup whenever Harry's dorm-mates started pestering him about his relationship with Malfoy- conversations that, as the team captain, Harry was obliged to join. Neville always seemed to know when Harry was spending too much time in his own head, drawing him out with questions about the Charms homework or prattling brightly about some new plant Professor Sprout was letting him help with. And Dean was there with a game of Exploding Snap or wizard's chess or even muggle cards whenever Harry just needed some quiet company.

Most surprising, however, was this odd new friendship he was forming with Malfoy. Circumstance had put the two into each other's confidences, and Harry found it surprisingly easy to talk to the Slytherin. Because of their arrangement, they could tell each other almost anything with relative impunity. If they were found to be working against one another, the ruse would be up, and they both had far too much at stake to risk it. Their teasing turned friendly, threats became harmless, and they learned more about each other in a few days than they'd learned in the past five years. Of course, more than a few things Draco confided in Harry about were specially designed to make the Gryffindor blush- such as when Draco had lost his virginity and to whom, who the best lay in the castle was, and what alternative uses various Zonko's products could be put to- all so he could tease Harry about his still-virgin status and Gryffindor puritanism. This also served the dual purpose of taking Harry's mind off of whatever he was worrying about at the moment, but he somehow doubted Malfoy's motives were purely selfless.

In this manner the relatively short time-period sped past and lumbered by, until Harry found himself finished with his last class Monday evening, left with just enough time to grab a quick bite before he was expected down in the dungeons. Truth be told, Harry wasn't all that hungry, and he knew if he went to dinner and didn't eat, he'd be met with worried looks from Hermione and admonishes of "Malfoy isn't worth starving yourself over" from his well-meaning House mates. But Harry wasn't all that anxious to start the lab period early, either. He hung back while the rest of his class was exiting the classroom, hoping for a few minutes alone to gather himself before heading into the serpent's den.

"Harry? You all right, mate?"

Harry stifled a groan when he realized Dean had stayed back with him. Dean had proved himself to be an invaluable friend throughout this whole ordeal, but Harry really didn't feel like lying to him right now. "Yeah, Dean. Just not really hungry, you know?" Harry forced a small laugh. "Extra lessons with Snape puts me off my appetite."

But Dean didn't smile back. "You've been off ever since that detention, and now you're skipping dinner. Did something happen? Did Snape do something to you?"

Harry's heart constricted. _It's what he didn't do_, he thought. "No, Dean. It's nothing like that. It's just… I spoke to Ron afterwards. Kind of drove it all home, you know?" Part of Harry was sickened by how easily he twisted the truth. "I just didn't feel up to seeing him _and_ dealing with Snape tonight, and since I can't avoid Snape…"

Dean frowned. "Harry, I understand you're used to dealing with Ron, but I'm not an idiot. That's not the truth, and we both know it. You've seen Ron plenty of times since then." He shook his head. "I get that sometimes you can't tell me the truth, but I'd really rather you not lie to me, okay?"

Harry nodded, not knowing what else to do.

"Good. So tell me now if you need a reason to skip this lab session, because I'll help Peeves blow up the Potions lab."

Harry choked in surprise. "Dean! He'd kill you!"

"Oh, I don't plan on getting caught." The darker teen quirked an eyebrow. "So?"

Harry shook his head bemused. "No Dean. Thanks, but I'll have to face him sooner or later. Might as well be now."

"And you can't tell me about it." Harry didn't answer but it wasn't a question. "Just like you can neither confirm nor deny whether Malfoy is helping you protect that bloke you told me about, the one you're actually in love with." Dean grinned at the dumbfounded look on Harry's face. "You really need a better poker face, Potter."

Harry could feel himself start to panic. "How-"

"Don't worry, Harry," Dean interrupted quickly. "You two have done a good job of it. If you hadn't told me about your other bloke, I'm sure I'd have been as convinced as the rest of the castle. But I know you weren't talking about Malfoy, and you're not the type to move on so quickly." Dean shrugged. "And if Malfoy is helping you protect the guy you love, the one that makes you happy, then I guess he's a better man than I ever thought. Don't worry, though; your secret is safe with me."

"Dean-" Harry breathed.

"You should go. Snape'll kill you if you're late, and then all this hard work will be for nothing."

Harry pulled Dean into a hard hug. "I don't deserve a friend like you."

"No you don't, but you're stuck with me anyway." Dean patted him on the back, looking slightly embarrassed. "Now would you get going already?"

* * *

_I love you_.

Severus hadn't slept a wink in days, though considering his position as a spy, that wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence. It was the reason _why_ he hadn't slept that was the unusual part.

_I love you._

He hadn't been able to get Harry's words out of his head, nor the look in those green eyes when Severus didn't say anything back. But Harry was young and couldn't possibly understand what he was saying. He couldn't possibly understand what love meant, especially considering what little experience he'd had with it growing up.

Or could he? Harry's words after showed a surprising maturity.

_You don't have to say it back. You don't even have to feel it, but I do_.

Very few relationships made it past a botched declaration of love. Those that survived often did so because the other person said it back soon afterwards. But that wouldn't be happening in this case. Whether they were true or not, it didn't matter; Severus wouldn't say those words to Harry.

Severus had forgotten how very easy it was to fall in love when you were sixteen, and "fall" was truly the right verb because you fell hard and you fell fast. It was only when you were old and cynical that you realized those first loves weren't really love but infatuation. At the time, of course, they feel very real and they hurt like real, too. Severus didn't want Harry to be hurt by this infatuation or love that he had fostered. Circumstances had forced Harry to grow up quickly, and Severus was willing to admit that Harry might be feeling more than just infatuation, but that was something that they would reexamine later on. For now- as much as this presented an excellent chance to allow Harry to move on and find someone more suitable- Severus would try to convince his young beau that he was cared for, without saying those words.

Surprisingly, the knock came at his office door at a quarter to five. He'd expected Harry to drag his feet, anticipating the awkward scene to follow, but the teen was showing his Gryffindor side tonight, it seemed.

"Enter," Severus called, setting locking and silencing charms to go into effect the moment Harry closed the door behind him. This was most definitely a conversation they wanted to have in private.

Harry walked in, offering a shy grin and tugging at his fringe. "I really screwed the pooch didn't I?" He stood in front of Severus' desk, but he didn't sit as he usually did. "Before you say anything, I don't want to hear a thing about how I'm too young to know what I'm feeling. If I'm old enough to- how did you put it?- enter into an 'illicit affair' with you, I'm certainly old enough to know whether or not I'm in love."

"Harry-"

"And if I'm old enough to save the world from a mad Dark wizard-"

"I don't believe Dumbledore is old enough to shoulder that responsibility," Severus growled. He hated talk of the prophecy and the position it put Harry in. He cleared his throat. "Whatever the case, Harry, it is irrelevant."

"Irrelevant?" Harry blinked as though he didn't understand the word. "How can you say that?"

"Because it changes nothing." Severus crossed to Harry's side. "It doesn't make this whole affair above reproach, it doesn't mean our lives are in any less danger. Whether or not you really feel… it changes nothing."

Harry slumped into the chair. "What an entirely logical and mood-dampening way to look at it."

"Harry." Severus ran his fingers through the teen's hair and felt something like relief when Harry leaned into the touch. "I'm not saying that what you feel is not important, but as much as you hate to hear it, you are very young. Real love and first love are very difficult to distinguish, and can sometimes be the same thing," he added, seeing the start of Gryffindorish righteous indignation on Harry's face. "Had we the time or the leisure, we could try to determine which it is you feel, and while we have neither, I believe it would do more harm than good. When some time has passed, when there are less pressing needs, we can reexamine the issue, but for the moment, it remains irrelevant."

Harry twisted in his chair to look up at Severus. "Do you believe me?" he asked. "When I say I love you, do you believe me? Or do you really think I'm too young to know the difference? And don't say it's irrelevant, because it's not. Not to me."

"I believe that you believe it. And that… that is more than I could have ever hoped for. Anything else is-"

"Irrelevant," Harry grinned. "Yeah, I got that." He stood and wrapped his arms around Severus' waist. "I do love you. Have for a while. And I _will _make you believe it, even if I have to spend the rest of my life doing it."

Severus' lips twitched at the overly romantic, very Gryffindor, sentiment. "Harry, it is foolish to make that kind of commitment, especially so early on."

"'Wise men say only fools rush in,'" Harry said, with an air of recitation.

"Precisely-"

"'But I can't help falling in love with you.'"

"What?"

"It's a song, Severus. I thought the lyrics seemed fitting." There was a mischievous look in his eyes. "I could sing it to you. Serenade you." Harry took a deep breath as though in preparation for just that.

Severus kissed him then, but just to save himself from that fate. Really.

* * *

"And you're sure about this, Ms. King?" the unpleasant little man asked, much to Anastasia's annoyance.

"I'm as sure as I can be," she snapped. "Do you think I would have risked everything to come to you otherwise?"

"I am sure you can understand what a risk this plan of your's would be for us, Ms. King," the man replied blandly. "If you have any doubts as to its effectiveness-"

"I've presented you with all the evidence you should need."

"And it is compelling," the man acquiesced. "You've presented a sound plan, Ms. King, that much isn't in doubt."

Anastasia could feel her patience wearing thin- never a good sign. "If I may ask, what is?" she asked through gritted teeth. "_I'll_ be the one doing all the heavy lifting, and _I'll_ be the one blamed if this all goes south. _You_ just have to show up. So what is the problem?"

"You are, Ms. King," the man answered without so much as batting an eyelash. "You came to us out of the blue with this seemingly foolproof plan, and it all seems a bit too… neat. Rather like an inept attempt at setting a trap."

Anastasia was rather miffed at being called inept, but figured it was better to let that one slide. "So why did you even come to meet me?"

"What we know of you, Ms. King, leads us to believe that you are not the type to risk your own well-being so carelessly. We believe there is a chance that this operation of your's actually is not too good to be true."

"And what else do I need to do to convince you? I've already given you all the evidence I have-"

"We want to know _why_, Ms. King," the man interrupted. "This seems a rather drastic move for you, especially since you have previously declared no allegiances. So tell me why."

Anastasia clenched her fists. "Because he's in the way," she spat, feeling her frustration rise. "I can't get what I came here for so long as he's in the way. I need him _gone_. And I need your help for that."

The unpleasant little man smiled an unpleasant little smile. "Very well, Ms. King. I do believe we can help each other." He extended his hand. "We'll be in touch.

Although it made her skin crawl, Anastasia shook his hand. _It'll all be over soon, Sev,_ she thought grimly. _I swear it._

_Wise men say  
Only fools rush in  
But I can't help  
__Falling in love with you_

_Shall I stay  
Would it be a sin  
If I can't help  
__Falling in love with you_

_As the river flows  
Gently to the sea  
Darling so it goes  
Some things are meant to be_

_Take my hand_  
_Take my whole life, too  
For I can't help  
Falling in love with you_

* * *

Author's Note: A few things. First, an explanation for why Sev didn't recognize the rather famous lyrics. I realize that he grew up in the muggle world, but his family didn't much strike me as one of Elvis fans. And the UB40 cover- the more famous of the covers- didn't come out until 1993, and Sev would have been fully immersed in the wizarding world by then. Plus it worked better for me. (I'm not normally a stickler for the canon dates- actually, they kind of bother me, because there is really no reason to date it- but I don't mind using them when they suit my needs)

Second, about the song itself. This (obviously) isn't a songfic, but the song got stuck in my head as I wrote the Harry/Sev scene, and the lyrics actually really work. For the record, I don't own the rights. It's been covered by scads of people, and I'm not really sure who does own the rights, but it's not me. I make no money from using the lyrics, and intend no copyright infringement.

Thirdly, I think we may only have a handful of chapters left. *gasp* I actually managed to move the plot along with this one, so if I manage to keep with our regularly scheduled plot, _Potions_ might end at about 20 chapters. No guarantees, but I've never finished a chaptered story before, so I'm excited. And then, of course, comes the sequel, and those of you who have read my livejournal know a bit more about that. Exciting!


	17. Chapter 17

A long time coming, I know. This chapter just didn't want to be written, but I'm proud of it all the same.

* * *

Hedwig was a particularly perceptive owl- as Harry Potter's owl, that was a necessary trait. If she hadn't been, she'd have been killed years ago by fanatics or enemies or even supposed allies desperate to read her wizard's mail. Or her wizard might have been killed by a piece of mail she delivered unknowingly. No, even for a wizarding owl, she was unusually smart. It was for that very reason Hagrid had bought her nearly six years ago. She could spot a dangerous piece of post and would discard it before it could harm her wizard. Regular post owls had learned to bring all of Harry Potter's mail to Hedwig so she could deliver it herself; she could be quite vicious if they attempted to circumvent her.

So it did not seem unusual when a brown barn owl settled on her perch carrying a letter. Hedwig took it delicately into her own beak and the barn owl flew off without a moment's hesitation. Hedwig, on the other hand, was not yet ready to leave. How she examined the letter was very difficult to explain in human terms. It had to do with the feel of the letter. The sight, smell, taste, and even sound of the letter. But not in the manner a human would use those same senses. Hedwig's sense of smell wasn't especially keen; she couldn't sniff out poisons or dangerous substances in the way a dog could. She couldn't read the letter or know the handwriting was from one of Harry's enemies. And determining whether or not there was more than parchment in the envelope meant nothing to her.

But if the letter had been sent by someone intending to harm her wizard, that meant it had been sent by a predator. And owls were, above all else, predators. It was something that she was intimately familiar with, and there was always a trace of it on the letters. What exactly it was that these people left on the parchment that tipped Hedwig off was a mystery- probably even to her. Still, Hedwig managed to detect even threatening notes with amazing accuracy.

This letter was one of those predatory ones, and Hedwig snapped her beak sharply with displeasure before picking it back up and winging off. Ever since her wizard had come into her care, she had taken these dangerous letters to only one man. The one man Hedwig knew would help her protect her wizard without fail. The one man she could trust with something as sensitive as her wizard's mail. For most of the wizarding owls, delivering their wizards' mail to another went against their very nature. But Hedwig understood that Harry needed her protection, and if that meant sometimes bringing his mail to this wizard, then that's what she would do.

Hedwig never worried that this man might be hurt by the letters. Just as she had known instinctively that he would protect her wizard, she knew he was powerful and capable. Besides, he should have had his own owl to take care of him. Hedwig already had one wizard fledgling to look after, and her one was more than enough.

Hedwig tapped on the man's small window. She much preferred where her wizard lived- a flying creature was always more comfortable in the air. Why some humans would prefer to live underground was beyond her comprehension. That was where prey lived, burrowing underground to protect themselves from her kind. But this man was certainly no prey. Hedwig was resigned to this confusing fact; still, she _hated_ squeezing through the tiny window. If Harry hadn't needed it…

The man opened the window, muttering, "You idiot bird. Don't you know you are supposed to deliver post to the _intended_ recipient?" Hedwig hopped onto the man's shoulder and nipped his ear in greeting- perhaps more sharply than necessary, but he _had_ insulted her. She could taste her wizard's presence around the man. It wasn't unexpected; lately she'd been tasting the man's presence on Harry. They'd been spending a lot of time together. Hedwig couldn't help but be relieved that Harry was finally doing something sensible.

The man sighed in resignation. "Well, let's see what this one is, shall we?" Hedwig gave a little impatient hoot. "Yes, yes. I bought you owl treats last time I was in Hogsmeade. Though why I should reward you when you cannot do your job…" Hedwig hooted again. "Well, if you'd get off of me, you great, dirty bird, I could get them for you. You aren't precisely a feather weight, you know." He paused. "No pun intended."

Hedwig fluttered down to a nearby table, dropping the letter neatly in front of her, and looking up at the man expectantly. He grumbled and said some rather uncomplimentary things, but in the end Hedwig got her treat.

The man waved his wand over the letter, muttering now-familiar spells. Hedwig watched in interest; sometimes this caused a fascinating reaction, with the envelopes sparking all over the place, or lighting up, or catching on fire. Although once it had emitted a high-pitched shriek. Hedwig shuddered at the memory and raised a wing so she could quickly hide her head if she needed to.

But this time nothing happened. "Maybe you were wrong this time, bird," the man said snidely. "I certainly wouldn't be surprised." Hedwig clicked her beak impatiently; they both knew she wasn't wrong. The man nodded to himself. "If Potter has a problem with this, let's just remember that it was all _your_ fault," he murmured as he ripped open the envelope. Hedwig watched in interest as the man's eyes grew more and more narrow as they roamed down the parchment; by the end she wasn't even sure how he could still see the letter.

But he obviously could, and was obviously distressed by whatever it said. Hedwig moved closer to him and nipped his finger gently. He started, as though he'd forgotten she was there. "This… this is worrisome." The man looked at her with darkened eyes. It was only for a moment, but that look disturbed Hedwig. No other letter had caused the man a single moment's pause, not even the spectacular ones that spit and sparked and screamed.

But the next moment, that look was gone, and the man was penning a letter of his own. "I trust you'll be able to actually deliver these letters to their proper recipients?" the man asked sardonically. "This one's for Potter. You know, the bloody wizard that owns you. Do you need me to draw you a map?" Hedwig snapped her beak sharply and the man smirked. "Only erring on the side of caution, bird. You don't exactly have the best record when it comes to accuracy." Which was a bald-faced lie, and they both knew it. "So long as it doesn't come back to me. The second is for Alcander Petra. Do be sure to deliver Harry's first."

The man ran a finger across the feathers on her head, briefly. "Do not worry, bird. Harry's in no danger, not from this letter. The trap was meant for me."

* * *

It was only the next night that Hedwig returned to the dungeons. Hedwig- it seemed odd, but Severus had never known her name before. She had shown up at his window enough times over the years that he'd even bought owl treats for the bloody bird, and he'd never known what to call her. But he'd been required to tell Harry about his owl's frequent miss-trips. So when Harry indignantly exclaimed, "Hedwig's been bringing you my letters?" Severus finally had a name to put to the feathers. Although at this point, he doubted he could call her anything but 'bird.'

Harry had accepted the situation far more quickly than Severus had anticipated. After all, the bird had been going against her very nature in order to protect him. But he glared at Severus the entire time, as though the Potions Master hadn't put his neck and cover on the line by taking those letters. "You could have told me," he said, almost sulkily, crossing his arms over his chest.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've been spending far too much time with Mr. Malfoy," he muttered. "You're starting to act like him."

"Yeah, and whose idea was that? Cause I kind of remember not liking that plan. Of course, you probably just wanted the chance to sit alone and read my letters-"

"_Enough_!" Severus snapped. "If you're going to act like a child, Potter, I'll kindly ask you to leave my quarters, as they are my only refuge from you snot-nosed brats."

Harry flinched, and it took a second for Severus to realize why. It couldn't be because he'd called him a brat- the term had become almost an endearment, just as when Harry called him sadist. It was because Severus had called him 'Potter' instead of Harry. Severus bit back a sigh. The teen maintained that alone together was the only time he could be 'just Harry' instead of 'Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.' Calling him by his surname was almost like saying Severus disregarded the Harry's feelings on the subject, but Severus hadn't said it to sting. It had been a knee-jerk reaction in his frustration.

_You would chose a delicate under-age lover_, Severus thought to himself, rubbing his temples in an effort to rid himself of the inevitable headache.

_Not delicate_, the little voice retorted. _Harry's anything _but_ delicate. He's just had to survive more than most, and has had the bloody world on his shoulders since he was eleven. Calling him Harry isn't such a hardship, now is it, Sev?_

The little voice was right, of course. It always was. "Harry," Severus took the teen's face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"I know." Harry reached up to touch Severus' hand. "I just need you to stop protecting me, alright?"

"I wouldn't know what else to do with myself," Severus said dryly. "Protecting you has taken up most of my free time."

"You could always take up knitting."

"Brat. I fear you'll just have to live with me protecting you. Though I suppose I can agree to be more open about it."

"Fine. And next time Hedwig brings you one of my letters, I want to be the one to open it."

"Harry-"

"You can run every diagnostic spell known to man beforehand, and you can be there when I open it, I just want to be the one to do it." Harry grinned. "I know you're an over-protective control freak, but I figure that's a compromise you can live with."

"I don't know why I even- take your bloody letter, then." He tossed the parchment to the dark-haired teen. "It's not like it's meant to hurt you, anyway."

"What?" Harry scanned the page. "King wants to give me Sirius' portrait? She tells me to come to Hogsmeade to meet her. Alone. And not to tell you." He looked back up at Severus. "I don't understand."

"No. I dare say you wouldn't. Try to look at it like a Slytherin, Harry. Anastasia is using what she knows of us and our relationship." Severus folded his hands on his lap, trying to explain. "She expressly tells you not to talk to me because she thinks it will _make _you do just the opposite. You're too much a Gryffindor to keep something- especially this- from me. I would never allow her near you, so I would go in your place to threaten her once again to stay away from you. And then she would spring the trap."

Harry paled. "But you two, weren't you- I mean, Dumbledore said you two had been together, why would she-"

"My best guess? Because she thinks I am the only thing standing in her way of getting your portrait."

"All of this? All of this for a _stupid_ painting?" Harry shook his head. "I should just let her paint the damn thing so she leaves us _alone_."

"You will do no such thing." It was that moment that Hedwig tapped on Severus' window. He stood to open it. "Your flaws will garner a high price, I can guarantee you that. The Dark Lord will not hesitate to use what can be learned from that painting, and it will be plenty. I will not let her harm you like that." He took the letter from Hedwig. "This is Alcander's response?" Hedwig hooted what sounded like an affirmative. "Harry, see to your bird, will you? The bloody thing won't leave me alone until I give her a treat."

"Hedwig's not a thing, Severus." Harry held out an arm for Hedwig to land on. She nipped his ear affectionately. "And she deserves a treat for delivering a letter. Do you have-"

"In the cupboard, bottom right. You spoil that bird." Severus didn't even look up from his letter.

"Says the man who bought her the expensive owl treats."

"They were on sale. Don't smirk so."

"What I don't understand," Harry said, sitting down to pet the bloody spoiled thing, "is why King would bother setting a trap that you seem to think is so obvious."

"She didn't know about your directionally-challenged bird." Severus put his letter aside for the moment. "If you had gotten the letter, I might have thought she just wanted to get you alone to try one last time to blackmail you into sitting for a portrait. But the bird brought it to me instead of you, so I knew it had to be a threat."

"You are such a smart girl," Harry cooed to the owl, giving her another treat as she preened.

"I get read the riot act, and the bird gets a treat. The world is truly unfair."

"Aww, do you want a treat, Sev?"

"And if I said yes, Harry," Severus said in a low voice, looking at him with dark eyes, "what would you give me that's good to eat?"

Harry blushed his patented shade of furious red. Severus smirked and turned back to his letter. It didn't seem that Alcander had changed at all, which was a good thing. Alcander had always been difficult to handle, but if Severus still knew how he would react, that meant he had the upper hand. Not that he needed it; Alcander still remembered how much he owed Severus.

"Who's that from?" Harry recovered his composure far more quickly than Severus had thought he would- he assumed that he had Draco to thank for that.

"Someone I knew a long time ago."

Harry gave an exasperated little huff. "When will you stop pretending that you're an old man?"

Severus couldn't help but be amused. "Harry, I'm over twenty years your senior."

"Yes, and that makes you older than me. Not _old_."

"To most of my students, that makes me ancient."

"I think we can agree that I'm not most of your students. Now stop changing the subject. Who's the letter from?"

Severus folded the parchment in his hands. "Alcander Petra. Someone I knew in university. And to answer the question I know you're about to ask, I think he might be able to help us be rid of Anastasia."

"Be rid- Sev, you don't mean-"

"No." Though it stung a bit that Harry's mind jumped immediately to assassination, Severus certainly couldn't blame him. "Whatever you think of me, I did love her once. And I do not ask anyone to do my dirty work, especially not an old friend."

"Severus, I didn't mean-"

"It's no matter." Severus stood to stoke the fire. "I don't mean to assassinate her, Harry. But Alcander is a… I suppose you can call him a private investigator. He was an Auror for a few years before going into business for himself. He owes me a favor."

Harry came up from behind him and wrapped his arms around Severus' waist. "'M sorry," he mumbled into the folds of Severus' robes.

"Idiot," Severus replied, though it wasn't without affection. "I told you, it's no matter. I've been accused of worse. I've _done_ worse."

Harry seemed content to let the matter drop for the moment. "So you think Petra can help? Is he going to hide in the bushes and take incriminating pictures?" At Severus' look, the teen shrugged. "That's what muggle PIs do in the movies."

"One of these days, remind me to drill some culture into that thick skull of your's." Severus sat down on the sofa and Harry immediately followed, snuggling up to him. Severus was convinced the teen had been a cat in a previous life. "Though I hate to admit it, it is the same idea in theory. Alcander will try to find something suspicious or incriminating in Anastasia's life, something we can use against her in some way. With any luck, it will be something that lands her in Azkaban."

Harry was quiet a moment, picking at the fabric of Severus' robes. Hedwig had long since flown back to the Owlery, and Severus silently debated whether or not to get up and close the window. It was a cold night and the draft could be felt clearly over the heat of the fire. But the cold air made Harry, heat-seeker that he was, burrow in tighter against Severus' side, and Severus couldn't deny that it was pleasant.

Severus was still debating the merits of either side when Harry spoke again. "Severus, can I ask you a question?"

"I daresay you have the ability to do so, seeing as you just asked one."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Prat." He took a deep breath, as though steeling himself to ask, which didn't bode well for Severus. "I just… how could you have loved someone like King? I mean, after what she did to you. What she's _still_ doing to you."

Severus relaxed. It was a question he'd been expecting. He threaded his fingers though Harry's hair. "I fell in love with her before all this happened, Harry. Twenty years ago, I was not so different from her."

"I don't believe that," Harry said stubbornly.

_You did when Black told you_, Severus thought, but kept it to himself. That was too raw a wound, and Severus wouldn't poke at it. "I met her while I was in Hogwarts. She was two years ahead of me, and my Potions tutor."

"_You_ had a Potions tutor?"

Severus smiled briefly. "Yes. I had a Potions tutor. Although, unlike some," he tugged lightly at Harry's hair, "I didn't truly need one. I was passable. Much like your Miss Granger, I followed the instructions in the book to a T. And yet, I was frustrated with the results. They were just good _enough_. I knew they could be better, but I didn't know how."

"So King became your tutor?"

"Yes. I fear she overheard me one night in the Common Room taking out my frustration on a potion." Harry snickered at the image. "She was a wonderful artist, even then. She took my hand and said, 'You're approaching this like a scientist, when it's not a science. It's an art.' Of course, I thought she was an idiot at the time, but she _was_ the best potions-maker in her class. When she offered me her help, I wasn't going to turn it down. She ended up being right, of course.

"What you have to understand, Harry, is that Anastasia was exciting, different from everyone I'd ever known. Her only care was for her art and very little for the rest of the world, although I do like to believe she cared some for me, back then. She never cared for how she appeared to anyone else, and as a result what would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, looked beautiful and effortless on her. Her method of brewing was just such a thing. She always said, 'Magical ingredients _want_ to make a working potion. If you listen to them, they'll tell you how.' And she would actually _listen_ to the potion, putting her ear just above the mouth of the cauldron."

Harry laughed. "You don't do that, though."

"No. My potions speak to me through sight, but they do speak to me. And they never would have had it not been for Anastasia. It was when I finally understood what she meant that I fell in love with her. And her later betrayal hurt all the more for it." Harry clutched at him more tightly, as though he could make up for the past. "I met Alcander soon after that, and he helped me move past it."

Harry stiffened. "Wait, you mean Petra's an old flame?"

"Harry, I split ties with Anastasia before you were born. Do you really think I spent all that time alone?"

Harry flushed slightly. "I didn't really think about it."

"Before you start being trying and acting jealous, what Alcander and I had was a mutually-beneficial arrangement. Nothing more."

"But you said he owes you-"

"And that is between Alcander and myself. I'll not betray his confidences, even to you." Severus kissed him firmly. "Rest assured, it has no bearing on this." He stood to close the window, feeling chilled himself as he moved away from Harry's warmth. "I've kept you too long as it is. You should get back to your dormitory."

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

When Severus turned back to look at Harry, the teen had already gone.


	18. Chapter 18

*Gasp* What's this, you ask? Another update? What happened to Blue's habit of leaving weeks- if not months- between chapters? The answer is, I'm gearing up for my first attempt at NaNoWriMo this year, and I'm trying to finish _Potions_ before November 1st. Yay!

Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, and the almost obscene amount of alerters and favoriters. I haven't said it in a while, but I love you all.

Btw, I took the Mary-Sue litmus test, and it said Anastasia had Mary-Sue tendencies T_T That made me sad. I tried very hard to make her as un-Mary as possible.

* * *

As Severus traveled into town to meet with Alcander, he couldn't help wondering what he had done to make history repeat itself. Once again, Anastasia had flown into his life and turned it upside down. Once again, Alcander was there to help him pick up the pieces.

Severus had first met Alcander when the man had been an Auror-trainee. Severus had been in university, as he'd told Harry. He'd also been a newly initiated Death Eater. After Anastasia's betrayal, Severus had turned to the only friend he'd had left, the prefect who had made a gangly little first year feel wanted. Lucius Malfoy. It wasn't that Severus blamed Anastasia for it- that choice had been his and his alone, and Severus could admit to himself that he'd been leaning towards that Dark path before he'd gotten to know her- but she'd certainly speeded up the process. And Lucius had been so solicitous and sympathetic that Severus might have done anything he'd asked.

And the Dark Lord… that first meeting was burned into Severus' mind so clearly it might have happened yesterday. He'd been so unnerved, struck speechless by the Dark wizard's inhuman appearance. Lucius had spoken for him, telling the Dark Lord about Severus' propensity for the Dark Arts and extolling his virtues as a potions-maker. Severus could remember how the Dark Lord had smiled, how he'd called Severus 'my son,' how he said he would fund the rest of Severus' education, as it 'would be a shame to let such a brilliant young mind go to waste.' Lucius had known Severus wanted desperately to go on to higher education but couldn't afford it, and the Death Eaters were in need of a capable potions-maker. It seemed reasonable to Severus, and he'd been branded that very night by the Dark Lord himself.

The Death Eaters asked very little of Severus while he'd been in university. For the most part, Severus was left to his own devices. He'd had no more friends in the college than he'd had at Hogwarts, but he enjoyed his solitude. That is, until Alcander shamelessly tried to pick him up in the library. He'd been tall and blond, with blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled and a quirked mouth that hinted at his good-humored nature. Severus had rebuffed him, dismissing it as some sort of prank or dare. Alcander had just shrugged and walked away, and Severus had pushed the episode to the back of his mind, figuring he'd never see the other boy again. He'd been wrong, of course.

One of his professors asked Severus to TA a class on poisons and antidotes for the Auror program. It was there that Severus met Alcander again. The Auror-trainee had made a point of hanging back at the end of class and following Severus out.

"It's too bad we didn't sleep together," Alcander had said, his blue eyes crinkling.

"Oh?"

"I'm complete pants at this stuff. I could have used the preferential treatment."

Severus had grunted something noncommittal in reply.

"Not that the door's completely shut on that, is it? 'Course, if you decided you'd rather tutor me than sleep with me, that would work, too. Or we could do tutoring _and_ sex, that would be the ideal arrangement-"

"Do you ever stop talking?" Severus had interrupted exasperatedly.

"Nope," Alcander had replied cheerfully. "So what's it going to be: sex; tutoring; or sex and tutoring?"

"Those are my only options?" Severus had asked, amused in spite of himself.

"Yep."

It had started off as just tutoring of course, but somewhere along the way, it had evolved into Alcander's 'ideal arrangement.' Neither party expected anything more from the relationship; it wasn't even as though they were dating. In fact, Alcander had numerous other romantic relationships during that time, though none of them had been serious enough to cancel his arrangement with Severus. It was comfortable and fun and made Severus forget at times that his every flaw was being gawped at by hundreds of people. Alcander didn't know about Anastasia, not back then, but Severus had been immensely gratified when the Auror-trainee had expressed his disgust for her work. That Alcander had immediately pounced on Severus hadn't hurt either.

They'd parted amicably and stayed in touch, though Severus had to do so covertly. If the Death Eaters knew he'd been corresponding with an Auror, he'd either be punished or forced to use the relationship to their advantage.

The Death Eaters asked little more of him after he'd gained his potions mastery than while he'd been studying for it. He'd receive orders to brew _this_ potion or _this_ poison or _this _antidote, and he'd be left alone to do so. Occasionally, he'd be called to Malfoy Manor to dine with Lucius and the Dark Lord himself- who Severus never _actually_ saw dine. He'd be scrutinized closely by the wizard who was more snake than man, be called 'my son,' and asked theoretical questions about a potion that could cause such and such reaction or if a certain potion could be modified to do _this_ as well or if there was a certain spell that would allow him to do _this_. Those questions, Severus knew, were actually orders, and he would immediately set out to create whatever it was the Dark Lord wanted. In return, the Death Eaters made sure that Severus' coffers were well-stocked and kept him out of their games of torturing, killing, and maiming.

It was a comfortable existence, and it was easy enough to turn a blind eye to the activities of his fellow Death Eaters. That is, until Alcander made the mistake of surprising Severus with a visit while Severus was receiving his orders. The Death Eater hadn't even turned to see who it was and hit Alcander with a spell that Severus had created- a variation of a full-body bind. It immobilized the victim, covering the body with a painful, stinging sensation that only got worse as the spell held. The Death Eater had continued talking to Severus as though nothing had happened, but Severus could only stare, horrified, at his friend struggling against a spell of _his_ creation, teeth clenched against the pain.

Suddenly, Alcander was panting in relief, picking himself off of the floor. Severus looked blankly from the dead Death Eater in front of him to the wand in his hand. He didn't even remember casting the Killing Curse, just Alcander's arms around him, his voice in Severus' ear murmuring nonsense like, "I won't let them get near you again." Severus learned later that Alcander thought he had been coerced into helping the Death Eaters. He'd put an Auror into a life debt, an Auror that believed him innocent of all guilt. The Dark Lord would love the opportunity that presented. The very idea made Severus ill.

So he'd gone to Dumbledore, hoping the old wizard could extract him from this life he'd made. Instead, Dumbledore taught him Occlumency and threw him straight back into the lion's den.

And here, a lifetime later, Severus was going to call in that life debt, a debt he'd ignored as he'd been the reason Alcander had been in danger in the first place. A debt Alcander insisted existed, even after being told the complete truth. Severus was glad he finally had a reason to absolve that debt, a reason that couldn't hurt Alcander. A reason that involved Anastasia once more.

Alcander Petra looked very much the same as he had during the first war. He was a bit leaner, with laugh lines starting to show around his eyes, and a bit of gray touching his temples. All Aurors during that time had aged too quickly, especially the young ones. Alcander had gotten off easy.

The blond man limped towards Severus. The Potions Master wondered again if it had been one of his creations to cause that injury. "Hullo, Severus," Alcander said with a smile, his eyes crinkling familiarly. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

"It would take a very strong Obliviation spell to make anyone forget you, Alcander."

"I'll take that as the compliment I'm sure it was meant as. Do you mind if we find a table? This weather makes me a mite twinge-y." He gestured at his injured leg. "Though it gets me all sorts of sympathetic eyes from the lads at the pub, and when I let on it's an old war wound- well let's just say I don't go home alone that night." They sat and Alcander stretched the bad leg out with a grimace. "So I suppose I can't really complain, can I?"

"You're incorrigible."

"Thank you." Alcander gestured to the barkeep, who came over with two pints. "I'm afraid I don't have any good news for you, Severus," Alcander said once the man had left, suddenly all business. "King's been meeting with some shady characters, but not Lucius Malfoy or any other known Death Eaters. 'Course, they likely _are_ Death Eaters, just not ones the Ministry has any proof on." He took a contemplative sip. "It's obvious they're setting up some kind of trap; it's powerful magic, too. I got them handling some dubious substances, but nothing outright illegal. I can't tell what it's supposed to do or who it's for, but it's certainly going to be nasty."

Privately, Severus doubted that Anastasia would be consorting with Death Eaters. She never had anything but open scorn for them. "Don't bother worrying about the 'who,' Alcander. That's one I already know."

Alcander frowned- an expression Severus wasn't used to seeing on his face. "Are you saying she's going after you?"

"Your investigative skills clearly haven't waned."

"That bitch!" Alcander slammed his fist down on the table and Severus had to hide his shock. Alcander had never been prone to fits of anger before. "What the hell does she want with you now?"

"That's another question you needn't concern yourself with."

"Severus…" Alcander started in a warning tone, but when Severus didn't respond, he sighed. "Fine. It would make my life a lot easier if I knew everything, but if you insist on being stubborn…"

"I do."

Alcander shot him a dirty look. "Fine," he repeated. "I can lay in a tip to some of my old friends in the Auror corps, maybe they'll do a raid and turn up something useful for us."

"You don't think they will."

"She's a famous witch. The Ministry's not going to want to risk all the trouble she could make for them without hard evidence. And if we had hard evidence, we wouldn't need the Aurors to do a raid." Alcander rubbed his hand across his eyes tiredly. "How is it that you always know the best ways to get in trouble?"

Severus felt guilt gnaw at the pit of his stomach. "Alcander, you needn't-"

"Don't try to be noble, Sev. It's not a good look on you," Alcander interrupted. He grinned suddenly. "Although as I recall, naked always looked good on you. Shall we go to my room upstairs and see if it still does?"

"Alcander-"

"I made sure to get the room with the big bed."

"You're impossible."

"I was in love with you, you know," Alcander said abruptly.

Severus blinked at him. "You were no such thing, you liar."

"Okay, fine. Maybe I wasn't. But I could have been, easy, if you hadn't kept me at arms length. You didn't let anyone get close, Severus, because you didn't want to get hurt again." Alcander drew little patterns in the condensation left by his pint. "I always resented her for that. What we had wasn't nearly what it could have been, and we'll never get that opportunity back. 'Specially now that you're off the market."

"What?"

"You're with someone. Otherwise you would have come to bed with me."

Severus snorted his amusement. "Sorry to bruise your ego, but just because I won't sleep with you, doesn't mean a single thing about my love life or lack thereof."

"Now who's the liar? If you were single, there would be no reason not to, and every reason for us to have sex. We had a lot of fun in the sack together. It's nothing to be ashamed of." Alcander leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin. "I want details."

Severus shook his head. Alcander was like a dog with a bone. If he didn't put an end to this line of questioning, Alcander would worry at it until he got an answer. And while Severus knew he could trust Alcander with his life, a relationship with a student was a whole different story. "Fine. I am in a relationship. But it must stay secret for various reasons. I can give you no more than that."

"Just tell me this- Mars or Venus?"

"I- what?"

"It's a muggle book, Severus. Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus. It's quite informative. Should be especially helpful to someone like you who swings both ways."

Severus rubbed his temples. "I'm doing quite well enough without any help from some muggle quack, thank you. And what in Merlin's name are you doing reading something like that?"

Alcander shrugged. "Followed a mark into a muggle bookstore. Had to look like I belonged, didn't I? And you're deflecting the question. Mars or Venus?"

"He's male," Severus said with a sneer, refusing to resort to the inane muggle terminology. "And that is all I'm telling you, Alcander, so you'd best drop it."

"Right-o. Now come on, Sev. You haven't touched your pint. Drinks're on me tonight, so drink up."

* * *

"Would you _relax_ Potter?"

"How the hell do you expect me to relax?" Harry asked irritably of Malfoy, pacing the Room of Requirement agitatedly. "King wants to _kill_ him. Or did you not get that part?"

"He said King was trying to set a trap for him. That doesn't necessarily mean she wants to murder him." Draco didn't look at all perturbed, leaning back on an old, comfortable couch. "Besides, she's a _painter _and Severus is a trained spy currently in the company of an ex-Auror. I don't think there's anything to worry about."

"Except for the fact that Severus used to sleep with that ex-Auror." Harry flopped down on the couch next to the blond, who wrinkled his nose at Harry's lack of decorum.

"Ah, so that's the real trouble. You're jealous."

"I'm not. I'm just-" Harry paused, unable to find the right words.

"Worried he might realize he's not getting any sex at home and sleep with this Petra fellow to remedy that?" Draco supplied helpfully. "That's called jealousy, Potter."

"Oh, fuck off, Malfoy. I'm leaving." Harry stood. "This isn't helping."

"Don't you dare walk out that door. We've only been in here half an hour."

"Isn't that long enough?"

Malfoy snorted. "Maybe for you, but I have a reputation to uphold. Besides, I told my housemates you like to cuddle afterwards, so we have to add on at least a quarter hour."

"I- you- _what?_"

"Eloquent as always, Potter," Draco smirked. "Don't worry, most Gryffindors tend to be cuddlers. It says nothing about your manhood. At least relative to the rest of your house. And you have to admit, you _do_ seem the type."

Harry groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "So all the Slytherins think we're _cuddling_ right now?"

"No. I told you, I have a reputation to uphold. They should think we're still in the middle of things. And as amusing as it may be to let people think you're prone to premature ejaculation, I'd rather not chance that it might harm my reputation. I would like to get laid once this farce is over."

Harry sat back on the couch, resigned to the fact that he was stuck for the time-being. "What about you and Charlie?"

"_What _about me and Weasley?"

"I thought you liked him."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Could you be anymore of a virgin, Potter? Just because we had a bit of fun last summer doesn't make us soul mates."

"I didn't say _that_. It just seemed to me that you liked him."

"Whether or not that's true, it's rather a moot point, isn't it?" At Harry's look, Draco sighed exasperatedly. "How Severus could be with someone as dense as you- As I understand it, Potter, you've been all but adopted into the Weasel clan, am I correct?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"So they all see you as some sort of cross between surrogate brother and family friend, right? Do you really think Charlie would sleep with your ex?"

Harry's mouth rounded into a silent "Oh." "But we could tell Charlie the truth. Not _now_, but when this is over, we can tell him the truth."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, I wasn't trying to make you feel _guilty_. Charlie Weasley was a good lay, and I wouldn't terribly mind it happening again- if only to see the look on your little Weasel friend's face- but that's all there is to it."

"I think you're lying," Harry said, grinning. "The way Lavender and Parvati tell it, you don't really go in for repeat performances. You're with a guy for a few weeks, dump him, and don't look back. You never go back to a guy you've already been with. Yet you _wouldn't terribly mind it happening again_ with Charlie."

"Yes, because Brown and Patil are experts on my day-to-day life."

"Close enough. You _are _their favorite topic of gossip. Admit it Malfoy. I'm right. You like Charlie."

"I will never admit that you're right about anything, Potter." Draco laced his fingers together on his lap. "Take this whole jealousy thing. There's absolutely no reason for it. Severus would never cheat. He might dump you faster than yesterday's trash, but he wouldn't cheat on you."

Harry smiled again. "Thanks Draco."

"Shut up, Potter."

* * *

Author's Note: I originally had a different scene for the second half of the chapter, with Harry and Alcander meeting and Harry getting jealous and Severus being snarky, but it just didn't work. So more bestie-bonding with Harry and Draco. Yay! They're so cute together, although I did have a lot of fun writing Alcander.

Random Note: I was watching my friend's toddler yesterday, and he counted up to 9! All by himself! He's not even 2. He doesn't like to say ten, but he knows it, and with a little prodding he got up to eleven (place Spinal Tap joke here). And he blew me kisses when I left. That kid is so cute I could eat him up.


	19. Chapter 19 Part 1

Hi all. *hides face in shame* I know, I know. My excuses- many and variable- can be found on my livejournal (truebluefool516). Also, TARDIS cake. This is the first bit of the last chapter of _AoP_. I really wanted it finished today, but I'm sick and didn't feel up to it. But it's an update, so we can all be pleased, yeah? Consider it a teaser. Especially since it ends in a cliffhanger. *runs away from angry mob*

* * *

Anastasia King sat unconcerned at her table in the little café, sipping her coffee slowly. Her dramatic side had considered smoking a cigarette as well, to set the scene and make her look all French and mysterious, but the fact that she actually despised those Muggle death-sticks had won out. Besides, it was no good to appear too obvious; acting out of character in such a way would be as telling as if she was twirling her mustache and stroking a white cat. The artist grimaced at the cliché. No, she would not indulge in her flair for the dramatic. Instead she would just drink her coffee and wait.

If there was one good thing about this whole affair, it was that it had taught Anastasia the value of patience. She'd rushed it before, and that had forced her to seek out these unsavory avenues. She'd not make that mistake ever again.

A man stood at her table. Anastasia looked up at him and smiled. "Hello, Severus. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

He scowled at her- such a familiar expression, it made Anastasia feel almost nostalgic. "Let's not keep playacting, Anastasia. You know very well why I'm here."

"To bring me a present?" she asked innocently, looking at the brown-paper package the Potions Master was holding. Anastasia knew, of course, what it had to be. "You do know that it isn't my birthday for another two months, don't you Sev? Or is this just belated from last year?"

Severus sat down at the table across from her. "I'm here to trade this," Severus held up the flat, rectangular package, "for the _Prisoner of Azkaban_. I'll even give you my express permission to show it again. It's a good deal, and you know it."

It was better than a good deal. It was highway robbery. One of the most famous paintings in wizarding history for a little portrait that no one save one very famous wizard cared about. Anastasia sipped her coffee. "That's an awful lot you're willing to give me for Sirius Black's portrait. Why so desperate?"

"I'm giving you a chance, Anastasia." Severus leaned forward in earnestness. "Make the trade, take the painting and just walk away before you do something you regret."

"Oh? And what exactly would that be?"

Now it was Severus' turn to smile. "I know what you have planned. Do you think I would be here otherwise?"

If Anastasia had given in to her dramatic side, she would have taken this moment to tap the ashes of her cigarette into the ash tray before bringing it back up to her lips for a long, unconcerned draw. Damn her lack of props. Instead, she could only take another sip from her cup. "Your poker face has certainly improved over the years, Severus, but I can still call your bluff." She smiled at him over the rim. "I know for a fact that your little pet detective wasn't able to find anything conclusive otherwise _neither_ of us would be here right now. He was cute, though I didn't think you went in for blonds." Anastasia put her cup back down on the table and wiped her hands with a napkin.

Severus' lack of reaction was disappointing, though not unexpected. "Just _think_ for a moment Anastasia. Is this really worth it?"

"Oh, Severus," Anastasia leaned forward to pat his hand, "don't underestimate your own worth. It's not becoming." Her eyes slid past Severus' shoulder to look out the big, front window of the café. "And it seems I'm not the only one who thinks so. So punctual, your little boy toy."

Severus didn't turn around to see Harry walk in- mostly because he couldn't. Anastasia's enchantment had been put in place the moment she touched his skin. "Don't try to fight it, Sev," she whispered to him, standing and walking to his side. "This will be over soon enough, and I'll make sure that you don't have to watch." She put a hand on his shoulder and her mouth to his ear. "Or did you really think this was still about a portrait?"

Anastasia straightened up slowly and walked sedately towards the little brat. Oh no, Anastasia refused to lose to Harry Potter.

* * *

_Damn, damn, damn,_ Severus thought as he struggled against the enchantment. The _napkin_, how had he not seen it? She'd covered her hands in a potion right under his nose. And to make it all the more galling, Severus could recognize the potion as one of the more innocent he himself had developed. He was sure that Anastasia had chosen it for that exact reason.

_Dammit_! Somewhere just behind him Anastasia had Harry in her clutches and there was nothing he could do about it. Anastasia had always been a master of misdirection, how had he not seen this coming? He'd assumed… oh Merlin, he'd assumed because of Harry's damn bird that they were one step ahead of her. Harry had seen it- _what I don't understand is why King would bother setting a trap that you seem to think is so obvious_- but Severus hadn't. She _knew_ he'd spot that, and she _knew_ that Harry's Gryffindor tendencies wouldn't allow his lover to walk into a trap alone. Severus could feel the bile rising in his throat. How could he have _missed_ that? He was too soft, he was allowing this affair to distract him too much, and now he'd put Harry's life in danger. It was Harry's dream all over again; trusting Severus might very well have killed him. And if Anastasia really _was_ working with the Death Eaters… oh _Merlin_.

Severus tried to open his jaw at the very least- what Harry didn't know was that Severus _hadn't_ come here alone. Alcander was sitting close by under a glamour, but the ex-Auror must not yet have realized that anything was amiss. Severus tried to call out to his friend, but barely a whisper escaped. It must have been enough, however, because the next moment Severus felt a hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice ask, "Severus? What's happened?"

Severus forced his lips open, but only managed to get out, "Potter."

"Hang on there, I know the counter-spell. I'll have you out in a mo' old friend, don't worry."

Of course Alcander knew the counter-spell. Aurors from the first war were almost as familiar with Severus' creations as he was, but that wasn't what he was worried about. _No_, he wanted to scream at Alcander. _There isn't time. You have to go and save Harry._ But his mouth refused to work for him.

The moments that it took Alcander to counter the enchantment seemed to last an eternity to Severus, and when he felt the spell begin to fall away, he wasted no time in getting to his feet.

"Wait a moment, Severus," Alcander said, his hair and skin darker under the glamour, though his eyes were unmistakable. "You should know better than anyone that the enchantment takes a bit to go away completely-"

"Anastasia has Harry Potter," Severus snapped, interrupting his friend. "This was all a set-up, and Merlin knows what she'll do to him. We have to go after them and _now_." A part of Severus knew that he was giving Alcander far too much information, that the ex-Auror might be able to piece together the truth, but the larger part of Severus didn't care. The time for subtlety was past and if they managed to get Harry out of this alive, he'd deal with the repercussions then. Besides, if Severus couldn't trust Alcander, it was better to know it.

Severus' feet weren't quite ready to cooperate with him yet, and he stumbled as he tried to dash towards the door, banging hard into some scandalized patron's table and spilling their coffee. The beverage must have been fresh; it scalded Severus' hand as it sloshed over the side, his skin turning a bright, angry red. But Severus didn't notice the pain, didn't curse at the coffee, didn't offer the couple at the table any kind of scathing retort as they screamed at him. He steadied himself as quickly as he could, and headed back towards the door.

Severus ran out into the cobblestone street, searching desperately for any sign of messy black hair, green eyes, or that voice that had become so familiar, that voice Severus would give anything to hear again. But he was too late; Anastasia and Harry were gone.

* * *

Author's Note: As always, remember to check my livejournal for updates, excuses, and random baked goods. The link can be found on my profile page.


	20. Chapter 19 Part 2

Sorry about the delay. Things have been crazy with the kitchen renovation, and I don't know why, but I've been having so much trouble wrapping this up. I meant there to be more in this chapter, not that this is short, it's about average for one of my chapters, but I figured I should get it out there. So this might be a part 2 of 3 or I'll just add the rest to the epilogue. I'm truly sorry for the wait, and I love you all for sticking with me.

* * *

Harry had barely reached the door of the café when King stepped outside. "Oh, hello Harry!" she said with a kind of overly pleasant surprise that immediately set Harry's nerves on edge. "I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't show up! You never did owl me back, you know." King walked forward, forcing Harry to step back, away from the café.

"Yeah, sorry. Been busy." Harry tried to peer around her, into the windows of the café. He'd seen Severus leave the castle; he had to have come here, hadn't he? Harry would feel so much better if he could just _see_ him.

But King stepped to his side, effectively blocking his view, and slung her arm over his shoulders in a gesture that was too companionable for Harry's tastes. "I wanted to thank you for letting me make all of this up to you," she said lightly, starting forward. Harry, under her arm, was forced to follow along. "I can be a real bitch when I don't get my way. It's a flaw, I know. You'd think I of all people would have a better handle on my flaws." She laughed. "I guess it's like how healers make the worst patients, yeah? I have trouble seeing my own flaws."

"Where are we going?"

"Oh, to my hotel. You don't think I walk around Hogsmeade with priceless works of art now do you?"

Harry thought it was a bit rich of her to call her own work 'priceless' but bit his tongue. "I really don't think that's a good idea-"

"Oh, relax Harry. I'm not enticing you up to my room, though I do know you like your partners older. Tell me, do you like older women, too?" She turned her head towards him and winked.

"I-I don't know-" Harry stuttered.

King laughed again. It wasn't an altogether pleasant sound. "I'm only teasing. You can stay in the lobby, of course. Can you imagine what the papers would say if you did come up to my room? It'd be all over the tabloids before you could say 'Rita Skeeter.' Ah, here we are."

Harry hesitated at the door of the building. It was too easy, too simple. King was giving up, relenting? No, Harry couldn't believe it. And where the hell was Severus? Had she already gotten to him? "I think I'd better stay out here." As public as the lobby of a hotel might be, it was no where near as public as a crowded Hogsmeade street. He could almost hear Severus' voice in his head telling him not to be reckless.

"Well, that's disappointing." King placed her hands on her hips. "After all the wonderful things I've heard about Gryffindor bravery, you won't even walk into a public building with me? Come on, Harry, what could possibly happen to you in the hotel lobby?"

_I'd really rather you didn't find out_, Harry could hear Severus' voice telling him. It was exactly the thing the Potions Master would say in this situation. "I'd rather not find out," Harry repeated, squaring his shoulders.

Something Harry couldn't read flashed in King's eyes, but before she could say anything, the door of the hotel opened and the porter stuck his head out. "Miss King? And Mr. Potter, if I'm not mistaken!" The small man grinned at Harry. "Such a pleasure, Mr. Potter. My daughter idolizes you. Snips every single one of your pictures from the _Daily Prophet_. Her room's nearly wall-papered with them. Starts Hogwarts next year, the love."

King smiled tightly. "I suppose I'll let you two be acquainted while I go and fetch your painting, Harry." The porter held the door open for her, and Anastasia stepped delicately around him.

The porter sighed as she left. "Gives me the heebies that one. Not much of a tipper, neither. Can I ask you a favor, Mr. Potter? I know it's not my place, but my daughter you see, she'd never forgive me if she knew I'd met you and hadn't gotten your autograph."

"Err," Harry tugged at his fringe self-consciously. "I've not got a quill or parchment or anything. Maybe I could just owl something to you…?"

"Oh, nonsense. We've a-plenty ink and quills just inside. And I've been using a picture of you as a bookmark. Ah," the porter looked chagrined and gave a little cough, "no offense meant, sir. Just that we've got so many of them lying around the house. And my daughter, she'll be eleven next month and getting her Hogwarts letter, I thought it would make a nice present." The porter looked at him with such wide and hopeful eyes that Harry felt like a miser saying no.

"I don't really- I mean I never really do… autographs," Harry protested feebly, even as the porter was leading him inside.

"Of course you don't! It wouldn't be half so special if you did. Oh, I can't thank you enough, Mr. Potter. My daughter will think I'm the best dad in the world after this."

Like most buildings in Hogsmeade, the inside of the hotel was a bit dark, especially after the bright day outside. Harry never missed the electric lights of the muggle world so much as in those few moments it always took his eyes to adjust in the dim wizarding buildings. Never had Harry missed electric lights so much in the few moments before he saw the inside of the hotel lobby.

"Glad you could make it inside, Harry," King's voice said pleasantly before Harry's eyes could clear. No, she couldn't have gotten back from her room that quickly. Harry immediately reached for his wand, but another hand beat him to it.

"I _really_ can't thank you enough for doing this, Mr. Potter," the porter said in a falsely simpering voice, pointing both his wand and Harry's own at Harry. "My Lord will be ever so pleased."

Harry's mouth went dry. King was a Death Eater? She was working for Voldemort? Harry had honestly not seen that one coming. _It's really a surprise that you've lived _this _long_, the voice in Harry's head that sounded like Severus said. His eyes darted around the lobby in the vain hope of finding someone who could help, but while it did appear to be a lobby, it was clearly one of a defunct hotel. There must have been a glamour on the face of the building, hiding that fact from him until now.

"Now, Harry, I don't want you to think ill of me," Anastasia said solemnly, as she took out vials from behind the old front desk. Harry's stomach turned as he saw the dark, black-purple colors of the potions inside. Severus always said that potions were used to achieve subtlety, but were very rarely subtle themselves. If a potion looked like bad news, it probably was. If a potion looked like bad news and was in the hands of someone working with a Death Eater, you were in serious trouble. "I don't work for the Death Eaters," King continued, setting the vials up. "In fact, I make it a point to stay neutral in this whole conflict. I declare allegiance to no one but myself, but you really gave me no choice." Harry's eyes stayed trained on her hands. "You see, Harry, you stood in the way of something I wanted, and that's something that I just can't allow."

"This can't just be about a portrait," Harry said, so quietly it was almost a whisper, but it didn't stop Anastasia from hearing.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Of course it isn't. I'm so glad that you see that, Harry. It makes me feel a lot less guilty about deceiving you." Not that she looked one whit guilty as she turned slightly to speak to the porter. "Would you please bind him already so you can help me over here?"

A rough hand descended onto Harry's shoulder and forced him into a wooden chair. "There we are, Mr. Potter. Nice and comfy, eh?" The porter cast the spell and thick, black ropes snaked around Harry's legs and chest, rendering him immobile. "Try not to worry too much, Mr. Potter," the man said with false sympathy. "You're worth far too much to my Master alive."

_Huh._ Harry filed that little tidbit of information away in his head. "Are you sure that she knows that?" Harry nodded towards Anastasia. "I don't think that's a Portkey she's concocting." In fact, Harry was sure that whatever she was doing would turn out very, very poorly for him.

"There are much easier ways of killing you, Mr. Potter." The porter patted him on the shoulder, before crossing over to stand with Anastasia. Harry immediately tested his bonds, but they were too tight to wriggle out of and too strong to break. He was seriously screwed.

"Yes," Anastasia murmured, "much easier ways." And before Harry could blink, she slashed open the man's throat with a small, silver knife. The porter clutched at his throat, making an odd, gurgling sound as the blood poured through his fingers, before he finally dropped to the ground. "There," Anastasia said in a satisfied tone. "That's better, don't you think?"

Harry could feel the bile rise in his throat as he stared, transfixed at the man's body and still-growing pool of blood. "Why? Why would you _do_ that? He was _helping _you!"

"Come on now, Harry," Anastasia made a small _tsking_ noise with her tongue. "He was a Death Eater. Surely you can't condemn me for killing him."

_Mad_. She was _mad_. She'd just murdered her partner in cold blood. Harry's heart nearly stopped at the thought of what she had planned for him. He struggled against his bonds with renewed vigor. "Look, whatever it is you want, we can come to some sort of an agreement, or something. You don't have to do this."

"And what exactly is it you think I'm doing? You need to relax, Harry." King smiled, and Harry could almost pretend it was reassuring. "I don't plan on killing you or turning you over to You-Know-Who. In fact, if you cooperate, you could leave here in 20 minutes, without so much as a scratch."

"And if I don't cooperate?"

"Well, that's when it gets nasty." King shrugged, and started pouring the contents of the vials in a large, shallow bowl. "I'm sorry, but that's how the magic works. I don't really want to hurt you, but I will if I must." A black plume of acrid smoke rose from the bowl, and Harry couldn't help but hope that that meant something had gone wrong. But King didn't seem at all perturbed. "I have to take something from you, and it can either be given willingly or taken by force. It's really best if you don't resist."

"I don't understand-" Harry cut off as he saw King take out a syringe. That could not mean anything good.

"I really don't understand what Healers have against muggle doctors." King started drawing the potion into the syringe. "I mean, needles make everything easier. No need to force a recalcitrant patient to drink a potion, no worries if the patient is unconscious or otherwise incapable of drinking. It really makes much more sense, don't you think?" She squirted out some of the liquid and tapped the glass of the vial to make sure there were no air bubbles.

"Please don't do this," Harry whispered as King disinfected the inside of his arm.

"I'm sorry, Harry," and for the first time, Anastasia truly did sound a little bit sorry, "but there isn't any other way. I need him."

Harry closed his eyes as he felt the needle prick his skin, so he didn't see what happened next. All he knew was that he heard glass shattering and felt the brush of feathers across his face before he heard King scream.

* * *

Severus should have known better. He should have put a stop to all of this. He should have broken things off the first time Harry uttered the word 'love.' Everything he touched always turned to dust, why in Merlin's name would he think Harry would be the exception to the rule? In the past, he'd berated his fellow professors for bending the rules to suit their Golden Boy, and here he was doing the exact same thing. And because of that, Harry was as good as dead. Severus might as well have killed the teen himself.

"Severus." Alcander was just behind him. He put a hand on Severus' shoulder. "We'll go back to Hogwarts, explain everything to Dumbledore. He might have a way of tracking the boy."

"He'll be dead by then." Severus was surprised by the deadness in his voice. Is that how he really sounded? He should have just ignored that letter; he should have told Harry that they should just leave Anastasia to stew in her own juices…

The letter. That damn bird. _Of course._ "We need to get to the post office."

Alcander frowned, but he followed Severus. "The post office? Are you certain?"

Severus opened his mouth to explain, but quickly shut it when he heard a low hoot. In a tree just behind him, a snowy owl was perched, shifting on the branch in an agitated fashion. When she saw she had Severus' attention, she immediately winged off in the opposite direction they had been headed in. Severus silently promised the bird an entire box of owl treats as he set off in a run after her.

Alcander was right at his side. "Care to explain what's going on?"

"That's Harry Potter's owl. If anyone can find him, she can."

Alcander fell silent. Severus knew that silence. It was a thoughtful silence. _You had better be alive, Potter. I refuse to risk everything like this just to find you dead, do you understand?_

_Please, be alive._

The bird dove straight through the window of an abandoned building, breaking through the glass and probably injuring herself in the process. A very large part of Severus wanted to emulate her, but his spy instincts took over. He paused at the door and nodded to Alcander, who nodded back in understanding, taking his wand out and holding it at the ready. Severus was slowly opening the front door when they heard the scream, and he through it open.

Severus took in the scene immediately- the bird was attacking Anastasia. He couldn't make out any wounds in the flurry of movement, but he could assume they were there. He sincerely doubted the owl would be gentle with anyone who tried to harm her owner. There was a man- a Death Eater that Severus recognized, if only vaguely- lying dead in a pool of his own blood; his throat had been clearly slit. And in the middle of the room, tied down to a rickety wooden chair, a needle sticking out of his arm, and blessedly alive, was Harry. It took Severus a matter of seconds to register all of this, and even less time to get to Harry's side, immediately starting to undo the bonds.

"Harry, what did she do to you?"

"Severus?" Harry breathed, and for a moment, Severus thought that might have been the most wonderful thing he'd ever heard. "I don't- there was a potion and she said she was going to take something from me and…" Harry looked down at his arm and when he saw the needle was still there, he paled. "Get it out of me, Severus. Please, get it out!"

"All right, hush." Severus slipped the needle out and pressed a finger against the wound to stem the small trickle of blood. "You're going to be fine, now."

"Did she get any of it in me?"

Severus examined the vial. Yes the plunger had been pushed in a small ways. "Not enough to do you any harm." Severus kept his voice calm and even for Harry's sake, but he had a terrible suspicion. He shook the vial slightly, and when a delicate ribbon of silver appeared, his suspicions were confirmed, and the cold hand of anger gripped his stomach. But he didn't let Harry see any of that. He finished untying Harry, helped the teen out of the chair and turned to Alcander and Anastasia. Harry looked a bit sick when he saw Anastasia's wound, and Severus couldn't blame him. Both of her eyes had been gouged out. The bird was sitting in the rafters, cleaning blood off of her talons. Severus couldn't deny that it was a fitting punishment; he very much doubted that even the healers at St. Mungo's could fix her vision well enough to allow her to paint again.

"I can call the Aurors," Alcander said, a bit uncertainly. "They can be here in seconds if you like."

"I would like a moment alone with Anastasia before we decide anything." Harry's head whipped around to look at Severus, and he could see that the teen didn't think that was a very good idea.

"Come on kid." Alcander beckoned with one arm. "They've got history. It's best to let them get some closure."

Harry hesitated a moment longer before walking forward. "We'll be just outside," he said, both reassurance and warning packed into that statement. Severus couldn't help but be a little proud.

Severus waited until they were both gone to turn back to face the woman that he had once loved. Without Alcander to support her, she had slumped to her hands and knees, pain making her weak. Severus couldn't find a whit of pity for her.

"I always knew you were foolish, Anastasia," Severus said coolly, and the woman turned her head blindly in the direction of his voice, "but I never took you for a fool." He knelt in front of her. "I could call the Aurors. Do-gooders that they are, they'll rush you to St. Mungo's, and they might even be in time to salvage some of your sight."

Defeated as she was, wounded as she was, Anastasia still managed to smile her mysterious smile. "But then the secret will be out, won't it, Sev? Everyone will know about your little whore."

"You still don't understand. The moment the Aurors have you in custody, your death warrant will be signed. It might be a spy in the Auror corps, or a Healer at St. Mungo's, or even when you're inside Azkaban, sooner or later, the Death Eaters will come to kill you. Or did you think you could cross them and get away with it?"

"It doesn't matter now." Severus was shocked to hear actual defeat in her voice. "He won."

Severus reached out and brushed his fingers against her cheek. She was momentarily startled by the contact. "Why do all of this, Anastasia? Why go to all of this trouble?"

"I told you, Sev, don't underestimate your own worth." She smiled wryly in his general direction. "You were the only one who… I was an idiot to let you go. I needed you back. I don't want to be alone anymore."

"And you think consigning Harry to a fate worse than death would be the best way to do all of this?"

"I had to get rid of the competition."

"You're a fool. How could I have never seen that before?" He took his hand from her face and moved it down to the crook of her elbow. "You only ever needed to tell me the truth, Anastasia. Now the only way I can ever be sure Harry is safe is if you let me go." His fingers found the vein in her arm.

"Sev, please don't-"

"Don't resist, Anastasia. I've heard the consequences can be rather nasty."


	21. Chapter 19 Part 3 and Epilogue

OMG is this really happening? Did I actually finish? I think... I think I might have.

* * *

Harry shifted nervously while standing next to the blond man he assumed was Alcander Petra. He didn't like the idea of Severus being alone with that woman, even if she was probably rather harmless after what Hedwig had done to her. He was more worried about what Severus would do to King. Not that he cared about what happened to her, but if Severus did something he'd regret, he'd never forgive himself.

Petra stood quietly next to him, though every so often Harry caught the man looking at him contemplatively, like he knew about Harry and Severus. Old friend or no, Harry very much doubted Severus had told him, but the man had been an Auror and was now making a living as an investigator. Had he figured it out?

After a time- too long of a time for Harry's peace of mind- Severus stepped out of the door, the look on his face heavy. Harry wanted to run to him, make sure he was all right, but he couldn't in front of Petra.

"All right there, Sev?" Petra asked for him.

"Yes, Alcander. It's all taken care of. You can call the Aurors now if you like."

"And Ms. King?"

"Alive and well enough, under the circumstances. She won't remember a thing, however."

Petra nodded. "And perhaps that's best. You should take Mr. Potter there back up to the school, make sure no harm's come to him. I'll make sure you two stay out of this from hereon out."

"Alcander, thank you."

"No need to thank me. It's better that way. Open and shut case- Death Eater deal gone bad. Just promise me you won't wait for a life-or-death scenario to owl me again, eh?"

"Of course." Severus put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come on, Potter. You wouldn't want to be late for your detention tonight, would you?" He pushed forward lightly on Harry's shoulder and they starting walking back towards the castle.

"Detention! What for?"

"Officially? For being in Hogsmeade when you're not supposed to."

"Unofficially?"

Severus' voice dropped to a near whisper, "For scaring the living daylights out of me. You promised me that you'd stay in the castle."

"I thought King was going to kill you! What did you want me to do?"

"I expect you to trust that I have twenty-odd years of experience at this sort of thing, whereas you are a _minor_ with a penchant for getting into life-threatening situations."

"Life-threatening?"

Severus was silent for a moment. Harry knew without looking that Severus' mouth had twisted. It was something bad, then. "Not here," Severus finally said.

Harry nodded, rubbing at his arm where King had tried to inject him. And if he walked a little too closely to Severus on the way back, well, it was still a bit brisk out, and Severus didn't complain.

* * *

"Hermione? What do you know about this potion?" They were in the library together, studying for the end of the year exams, although there was something extra that Harry couldn't help but look up. He showed the book to his friend, who's brow furrowed at the title of the article.

"Oublier L'Amour? Harry, that isn't on the Potions exam."

"I know. It's for my lab with Professor Snape."

Hermione's mouth pursed as though she didn't quite believe him, but she let it slide. "Oublier L'Amour is a rather romantic name for a very horrible potion that Healers concocted during the Dark Ages. It's name literally means 'to forget love.' It was developed to treat witches hysterical over the loss of a husband or other loved one."

"That's what the book says." Harry grinned. "Almost word for word. But I don't understand what makes it so awful."

"Because it didn't just make them forget. Oh, the ones who took it willingly, it worked perfectly for. They forgot their husband or whoever without losing the years of memories- it was like he was just removed from their memories. Taken from them, if you will."

_I have to take something from you, and it can either be given willingly or taken by force. It's really best if you don't resist._ "And the ones who resisted it?"

"The magic had to claw its way out of them, and took with it any other love or attachment the witch had ever felt. And while nothing had affected their senses, the Healers at the time wrote that they seemed unable to perceive another human being interacting with them. They were left literally alone and friendless in the world. That's why the potion was outlawed shortly after its invention." Hermione frowned. "Why is Professor Snape having you research it?"

"He isn't." Harry said, finding it difficult to form the words around the block of ice that seemed to have formed inside his stomach. "I mean, he told me to research any potion I haven't been taught and I thought it sounded interesting, but I think I'll choose something else."

Hermione was looking at him with those curious eyes, like he was a particularly difficult question on an assignment. "Harry, are you all right? You've gone a bit pale."

"Yeah." He closed the book in front of him a little too hard. "Just thinking about those poor women. It's awful, yeah? So how're you doing on the Charms work?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about it," a familiar drawling voice came from behind Harry. "Flitwick took it easy enough. Question 7b is a killer, though. Granger." Draco nodded politely in Hermione's direction, sliding in next to Harry on the bench. Even though King had been discredited and was now in Azkaban, Harry and Draco had kept up their ruse. It was almost second nature by now, and with Lucius Malfoy still anxious to regain his standing among the Death Eaters, it was better not to arouse his suspicions. Although if Draco kept whining about his neglected libido, Harry might be forced to stage a rather public, rather messy break-up.

Draco poked Harry in the side. "Don't you have detention soon?"

Harry checked his watch. "Shit. If I'm late again, Snape'll give me another detention. At this rate, I'll still be serving detention when next term starts." He started throwing his things into his bag without looking.

"Anybody who didn't know any better might think you liked disemboweling toads."

"Don't be a prick, Draco."

"But that's the part of me you like best."

Harry looked up briefly to see Hermione blush vibrantly. He wagged a finger at Draco. "Be nice," he admonished, before running out the library door.

He hadn't been lying. Severus would add another detention to his already three weeks if he was late. Harry had not only broken the rules, but he'd broken his promise, and if Severus had to add more detentions, they wouldn't be pleasant. Harry liked them much better when they were pleasant.

Harry got to the dungeons sweaty and out of breath but when he checked his watch again, he had a minute to spare. He gave himself a moment to catch his breath and raised his fist to knock on Severus' office door.

The door swung open before he could and Severus stood there. "Potter," he sneered. "On time. For once." He stood aside to let Harry pass him. "Well? We haven't all day."

Harry walked into the office and waited for Severus to put his locking and silencing spells in place before turning back towards him. "You gave it to her, didn't you? The Oublier L'Amour? I thought maybe you'd Obliviated her when you said she wouldn't remember, but you gave her the potion that was meant for me."

"Yes, Harry. It was that or erasing the last twenty years from her memory which the Aurors undoubtedly would have noticed and broken through, putting your life, Draco's life, and my position as spy at risk."

"I'm not _blaming_ you. I understand. I just don't understand why she would do something like that."

"She saw it as the most humane way of eliminating her competition."

Harry shook his head violently. "I don't ever want to forget you."

Severus' eyes were dark and full of all sorts of secrets. "I assure you, Harry, I won't ever let you."

"Promise?"

Severus cupped Harry's face in his long, graceful fingers and drew their faces close. "I promise."

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, I seriously had way too much trouble ending this. Yes there will be a sequel. Also, Camp NaNoWriMo starts today, and I have a special little surprise planned for it to reward my lovely, clever readers. For more on that and updates and info about the sequel, check out my livejournal (see my profile).

Gosh, I feel like I should say something moving and gracious. My first fanfic is over. I have the best readers/reviewers/C2ers in the world. I love you all. See you soon, I promise.

-TBF


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